


Coup de Foudre

by HillbillyOfDoom



Category: In the Heat of the Night
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 119,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillbillyOfDoom/pseuds/HillbillyOfDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparta's city council couldn't have chosen a worse time to be up to no good.  Even as the Sparta P.D. is stretched thin, Bill contemplates retirement.  He has his eyes set on a replacement, but Bubba is keeping secrets and doesn't share his enthusiasm.  Meanwhile, Lonnie chases the bad guys and Parker chases love with a woman he may never see again.</p>
<p>This story follows Blurred Lines and is also a revised version from what was originally posted at FF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are borrowed with no intent to profit.
> 
> This story is a sequel to Blurred Lines. I highly recommend you read that first if you haven't already.

Sgt. Luke Everett watched as the teenage boy emptied his pockets onto the hood of his patrol car. After the youth was done, Luke patted down his jacket to make sure he hadn’t left anything unaccounted for. The officer wasn't putting much effort into it, doing it to shake the kid up more than anything else.

He could technically get the youth for breaking curfew, with a couple of other petty violations thrown in. Luke had rattled them off, but he didn't intend to follow through.

The kid had fallen for it. He hadn't dealt with the system before and had agreed to be searched with only minimal resistance. Luke hoped if he got through to the boy now, he wouldn't come across this kid later on, a lot more street wise than he was now. Mixed up in worse things than he might be now.

“See, I told you. I don't have anything,” the boy spat.

“I hear that every time I stop somebody and guess what, most of them are lying,” Luke replied calmly.

The kid knew what the cop was saying was the truth. He’d been carrying weed the day before. He was just lucky to get stopped on the street today and not yesterday.

The boy’s demeanor became less hostile, grateful for his good fortune.

Luke noticed the change and asked, “What are ya doin’ out here this time of night?”

“I told ya.”

“Yeah, but what you told me makes no sense. I want the truth.”

The teenager only stood silent.

“I know you hate the cops for ruining all your fun and telling you what you can and can’t do, but this isn’t just about you... or your buddies.” A hint of anger broke through Luke’s usual easy going exterior. “This part of town is going to hell because you guys are comin’ down here and buyin’ your drugs.”

“I’m clean, you just....”

Luke ignored the boy’s interruption. “All you’ll find down here is dirty needles and crack whores. Is that why you’re here, trying to score with one of the ladies of the night?”

The boy turned a bright shade of red.

Luke didn’t like being crude, but it was sometimes the only way to get through to people. The youth before him was barely seventeen, with a whole life ahead of him, but only if he stayed off of Callister Street.

“I'm not...,” the boy started.

“Yeah, you're _not_. You're _not_ thinkin’.” Luke added in a gentler tone, “The things you find here, the _people_ you find here, will kill you slow... and sometimes quick, if they’re in the mood.”

“I gotta’ friend who lives down here,” was all the youth could manage as a lie.

Luke scoffed, “A friend? Down here? Well, son, you’ve got real bad taste in friends. Better make sure they never get behind you. Might stick a blade in your back for whatever you’ve got in your pockets.” Luke nodded to what little the boy had laid on top of his cruiser, his signal that the kid could have it all back now.

The boy glared at the officer with simmering fury, then began stuffing items back into his jeans. All his luck suddenly forgotten, the boy was eager to hate anyone who dared tell him he didn't know everything.

Luke wasn’t intimidated. “Get out of here. Tired of lookin’ at ya.”

Reaching the driver’s door of his cruiser, hand on the release, Luke stopped and added, “I know you, Toby McGinnis. Your dad hasn’t busted his butt working in that mill just so you can take his money and snort it, or inject it, or do whatever it is you pathetic junkies do these days.”

Toby’s only response was to brazenly flip the officer the finger as he headed on down the street. To the youth, it was the signal that he was the clear victor of the confrontation and he wouldn't be easily deterred from whatever late night adventure he had in mind.

To Luke, who wasn't so baby-faced and soft spoken these days, it was all just posturing. It wasn't much different from what he'd seen on nature specials about primates, as male apes, raging with testosterone, tried to intimidate one another. The younger ones always had more to prove, while the older ones were smart enough to pick up a stick and just club the young ones out of the way.

Luke swung into the driver’s seat. He wasn't tempted to pick up a club just yet, but he did briefly consider following the teenager. In the end, he knew it wouldn't be wise. They all had to tread carefully where the drug trade was involved. One uncoordinated move could ruin the chances of making their larger busts throughout the year.

Luke’s mood lifted as he realized that big bust or not, he could still talk to the kid’s father. Score one for the geezers and he wouldn't even have to wave a stick over his head.

He made a u-turn and coasted back the way he’d come in on Callister Street. He’d only ended up in this part of the Bottoms by chance. This wasn’t his planned route for the night. If it was, he wouldn’t have been alone. Even cops didn’t cruise the Bottoms alone at night anymore.

Luke was passing into a better neighborhood as chatter came over his radio. He only sighed, hit his lights and made a right turn.

xxxxxxxxxx

“We have to stop meeting like this, Lt. Shepard,” Luke teased. He still had a youthful grin that always went right to his blue eyes, which were distinct under long, dark lashes. Thinking he'd grown too old for thick, brown curls, he kept his hair cropped short. It only made his blue eyes stand out that much more.

“Likewise, Sgt. Everett,” Dee replied, taking a moment to step away from the witness she had been talking to.

“Look like the same guy?” Luke asked.

“Yes, it does, but we both know not to jump to conclusions.”

“Especially in this town,” Luke added, as he wandered around the scene a bit. The convenience store looked like any other. Dee scribbled a few more notes, while he meandered.

He had been careful not to touch anything on the way in. Dee had noticed and said, “He wore gloves, so don’t worry about prints.”

Luke eyed each of the store's security cameras before asking, “Can we get at the footage?”

“Manager has the equipment locked up and the cashier doesn’t have the key.”

For the past two months, one man had become a thorn in the side of the Sparta Police Department. He had apparently turned robbing Sparta convenience stores into his main source of income. He’d even hit some stores more than once.

The story was always the same. A white male, barely six feet, no distinguishing traits, would walk in, demand cash and leave. With nothing more than a pair of darkly tinted glasses obscuring his face, the police thought it would only be a matter of time before someone recognized him in the media.

As of yet, no one had recognized him. Two local men had the unfortunate luck of resembling him, but they’d since been cleared of any wrong doing.

Dee returned to her one and only witness, the store clerk. She’d already gotten the basic details from the woman and had put out an APB that sounded frustratingly like all the others, but she hadn’t gotten much else yet. “Let’s start at the beginning,” Dee suggested.

The clerk, still shaken, said, “Well, like I said, I was doing a crossword. Guy came in. Came straight to the counter. Figured he wanted cigarettes or lottery tickets or something. He hadn’t pumped any gas. Comes up. Real polite.” The clerk then became quiet for a moment.

“Take your time.”

“I’m shaking and I don’t know why." The middle-aged woman looked at her quaking hands as if she might find the answers there. "He wasn’t all that threatening. Not really.”

Luke had heard the APB and knew the bandit had been armed. “It's just a natural reaction to danger. A person sees a gun or a knife and the body prepares for fight or flight. The adrenaline takes awhile to wear off.”

Luke's answer apparently satisfied her. The cashier flexed her hands one last time, then let them drop. All of her attention then went back to the female officer and the task at hand.

Dee asked, “What happened when he came to the counter? Give me as much detail as you can.”

The clerk took a deep breath and tried to recall exactly what had happened. “He came straight to the counter. Like I expected, he asked for a pack of Marlboro’s. I rang it up. Told him the amount. He says,  _Sorry, but I don’t have any money. All I have is this_ . He pulls the gun out of his pocket. Not all the way, but I could see the... you know, the round part where the bullets go.”

Dee looked up from her notepad. She thought the woman meant a cylinder, making it a revolver, but she wanted to be certain. “Do you mean a round cylinder?”

“Yeah, the type that spins around.”

Luke snickered softly from somewhere in the background.

The clerk blushed. “I’m not an expert.”

Dee scanned for her co-worker, so she could meet his gaze and scold him directly, “Like you’re an expert in all things.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Luke grinned broadly, puffing out his chest.

Dee rolled her eyes, then looked back to their witness. “Ignore him, hon. You’re doin’ great.” She wanted to get back on the topic of the gun, while the clerk’s memory was fresh.

“His gun, how did it compare to his hand? Too big for it? Too small?”

“Now that I think about it, it did seem kind of small.”

“What color was it?”

“The handle was brown, like wood or fake wood and the rest was black.”

Luke quickly asked, “So he comes up, shows you the gun, then what?”

“He tells me to empty the register. I do. He didn’t want it in a bag or anything. Just stacked it up real nice and neat and took off.”

“Didn’t say anything else?” Luke asked, finally coming up to stand at Dee's side.

“Nothing.”

Dee knew the answer from her APB, but she wanted verification. “And he headed up the street, that way?” She motioned northward.

“Yeah, not even running. Just jogging, kind of casual.”

Luke asked, “You follow him out?”

“Oh no, I just went to the end of the counter here and looked out the window. Saw him go as far as the laundry mat, but then he was out of my sight. That’s when I called y’all.”

“I’m gonna’ take a look around outside,” Luke said, touching Dee's shoulder as he passed. Winter seemed eager to come early, so she could barely feel his touch through her thick coat.

Dee had decided early on in her career that she wouldn't make too much out of a harmless touch here and an unintentional comment there. A thin skin had surely ruined many a woman's career in law enforcement. If a woman wanted to be one of the boys, she had to embrace actually being one of the boys. A woman couldn't have it both ways, in her opinion.

Dee knew she was respected and that's all that mattered to her. “I’m just going to clean up this physical description.”

Luke spoke distantly, as if more to himself, “Be nice if we could get a look at that footage.” He peered out the front doors for a moment before opening one and said, “Wonder what’s taking Lonnie so long.”

“Maybe Luann couldn’t reach him,” Dee replied.

They shared a look. Both knew what the other was thinking.  _Let the poor guy have the night off._

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker Williams strode up to Lonnie’s desk, only to stand there swaying on his feet and slapping a folder into the palm of his free hand. “Mornin’ there, Detective.”

Lonnie Jamison knew he’d look up to find Parker grinning at him. He was only referred to as  _Detective_ when Parker was up to something.

“Parker, you can make a fella’ seasick the way you sway back and forth like that,” Lonnie muttered.

“Now, Detective, let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Lonnie pushed away his paperwork and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, Parker, let’s talk about me.” In a mocking tone he continued, “I skipped breakfast, so I’m hungry... and I’m wearin’ this god awful shirt because I didn’t do my laundry.” He calmly pulled his paperwork back before him and said, “And now we’ve talked about me, so go away.”

Parker shook his head and said in a sympathetic tone, “Lonnie, there’s no need for sarcasm.” He settled onto the corner of the other man’s desk. “I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure. Maybe need to go out... relax... have a good time....”

Lonnie pulled his cell-phone from his pocket and tossed it onto the desk. “Battery died. Didn’t get the call.”

Parker gave the small device a curious glance, scowled, then got up in a huff. “Darn it, Lonnie. Here I thought you’d had some sort of hot rendezvous.” He mangled  _rendezvous_ so badly that the chief would have reprimanded him if he’d been present.

Lonnie shrugged. “Sorry.” In a way, he actually was sorry. He wished that there had been more of a reason for missing last night’s crime scene than just a few missed phone calls. His spirits sank as he realized how sad his life had become. The center of his universe was a growing stack of case files on his desk.

Parker sighed and hustled out of the office, muttering, “You guys give me nothin’ to work with. Nothin’.”

“Parker?” Lonnie called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Get the video out for analysis?”

“Went out first thing.” They were all tired of the bandit case and Parker’s voice took on tension to reflect the fact. “I haven’t seen it. How does it look?”

Lonnie sighed, “Not promising. It’s our guy. I have no doubt of it, but I don’t think it’ll give us anything more to work with.”

Parker replied optimistically, “We’ll get him, Lonnie. The guy will screw up sooner or later.”

Lonnie only forced a smile for Parker’s sake and watched him walk out.  _Yeah, he’ll screw up sooner or later. Let’s just see if I’m good enough to catch him when he does._

xxxxxxxxxx

After so many years had passed, Althea still remembered her way around Sparta, even during the dark early morning hours. “You still live out this way?” she asked Bubba.

“Nah, I live at the edge a’ town a ways,” he replied, motioning further along their present course. “You don’t have to drive me all the way out there. Need to pick up my truck at the airport, anyways.”

Althea stopped at a light on the way through town and looked over at him. “Does this sometimes seem surreal to you? Everything that’s happened?”

He never looked away from the passenger side window as he replied, “Like it was all just some sortta’ nightmare? Yeah, have to admit, it has felt like that.” He finally looked over to her as they traveled through the green light. “Probably an even longa’ nightmare for you.”

“It seemed like forever at the time, but now, I look back and it seems like it all happened in a split second. I stop and ask myself sometimes if it really happened at all.”

He only nodded in agreement, then turned to find the twins still sleeping soundly in the backseat.

“Let’s see if I can remember where the airport is,” she said, flashing her turn signal.

“Got it right so far.”

After completing the turn, she asked, “So, when did you move?”

“Few years back.”

She had a hunch as to what had prompted the move, but she didn’t feel comfortable broaching that subject just yet. She settled for asking, “Own or rent?”

“Own. Believe it or not.”

“I’m going to insist on getting a personal tour," she warned.

“Only if ya promise not to squeal about the moonshine I’m makin’ in the basement.”

She reigned in a hearty laugh, not wanting to wake the twins. “With you, I’m not sure if you’re pulling my leg or not.”

The city streets were lit well enough to let their eyes meet. Bubba only grinned and winked.

She shook her head at his antics and went on to say, “I don’t look forward to being a renter again, but I keep telling myself that it’s only temporary.”

“Lotta’ nice houses ‘round here. You’ll find one quick enough.”

She stopped at an intersection and looked both ways. They still had the streets to themselves as they passed houses with dark windows. Occasionally, they passed a house with a lit window or two and she felt a bit homesick. She couldn't help but think of the large billboard ads she had seen along the interstates during their trip. _If you lived here, you'd be home by now._

Though she was back in Sparta, she wasn't home yet. She didn't really have one. She'd set up a place to rent, but she'd be stepping into a bleak void of bare floors, walls and windows when she finally found the place. Not exactly the homecoming she desired after several days on the road.

Dreaming of the hot shower she could probably get and the warm bed she probably couldn't, she could only imagine how Bubba was feeling. She was running on empty and she certainly hadn't taken the abuse he had over the past several weeks.

At least he had a place to call home. She was a bit envious, back to thinking of hot showers and soft beds. Fluffy pillows with freshly laundered coverings that smelled nice. She kept the pleasant thoughts flowing, treating herself to a huge comforter warm and snugly out of the dryer to go along with it all.

As late as it was, there was no point trying to rent a room and it just wouldn't be the same anyway. As she was about to turn to Bubba and tease him about how lucky he was, she was broadsided by a scenario she had never considered. Was someone waiting for him?

He hadn't mentioned anyone, but why would he. She hadn't asked. She had just assumed. It wasn't posted on billboards, but it was a popular enough saying. _To assume makes an ass out of you and me._

She hadn't crossed any lines, so she didn't consider herself an ass just yet. At least, not for that reason. After covering several blocks, she decided to confess, “I'm starting to feel foolish for just packing up and leaving like I did, with no idea what the future will bring. People probably think I’m crazy.”

“They’ve always thought that, so don’t worry about it,” he teased.

She felt a pang of apprehension as she looked over to see him offering her a quirky little grin. He really could have someone waiting. The odds were against her. Men like him didn't stay unattached for long.

She pushed those thoughts aside, finding them unproductive. With a heavy sigh, she asked, “Seriously, Bubba, do you think I’m crazy? I’ve got no home, my things are in storage and I don’t even have a job.”

He counted off on his fingers as he stated, “You’ve got a rental, stuff is just stuff and you’re gonna’ get a job and I don’t wanna’ hear anymore about it. People will think you’re crazy cause they’re jealous. Takes a lot of faith in yourself to just pack up your life and move on. You can do it, you know you can do it... so you did it.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I’m very impressed, by the way.”

She suddenly felt warm. She turned off the car’s heater, though she knew for sure that wasn’t the culprit. When she trusted her voice to be calm and steady, she admitted, “After all that you’ve done, Bubba, I feel that I should be the one saying that to _you_.”

With their distinctive curved metal roofs, the hangars that dotted the edge of the Sparta airport were an unmistakeable sight up ahead. Security lights beamed down to illuminate the entrance to each metal structure. Several hangars sat with their massive doors wide open, offering a glimpse inside at planes likely to depart early in the morning. Most were pleasure craft, suggesting the next day's forecast was a good one.

Though she felt a little twinge of disappointment now that their adventure together was coming to a close, she tried to be upbeat. “Well, you’ve been saved from me at last. I have successfully found the airport,” she stated in triumph. “And didn’t get too lost while doing it.”

“I had total faith in ya, ma’am.”

“Which one is yours?” she asked, driving into the parking lot. She could tell she was back in Sparta, seeing a lot of aging Fords and Chevys. There were also a number of foreign cars, which didn't surprise her. Now that many foreign companies made their automobiles in the South, loyalties were shifting. There were few luxury brands and not even those had the just-off-the-lot shine she saw everywhere in Philadelphia's suburbs.

A security fence loomed just beyond the lot. It was the first time she had ever seen the main gate closed and someone actually manning the guard shack. Of course, she had never been by this early in the morning before.

Bubba pointed his truck out and she was slightly surprised by the mangled heap. As if he could read her mind, he said, “Yeah, ugly as sin. I know. But it runs good.” He opened his door. “Pop the trunk and I’ll get my stuff.”

She zipped her coat against the unusually crisp autumn air as she came around to the back of the sedan to see him off. It was too awkward a moment for her to just drive away without saying something.

He retrieved his bag and his trusty hat, which he promptly put on to free up a hand to dig around in his pocket for his keys. The stetson shoved his long hair out in all directions, accentuating his overall shaggy condition.

Things were about to change. The long hair would go. The beard would go. The little bit of weight he'd lost would eventually come back. Would the friendship they had just rekindled change too? Would it go from the comfortable relationship they had now to something else, to fit in with what was considered proper in Sparta?

He looked tired after a long day on the road, but there was also a tentativeness to his expression. He was vulnerable in a way she'd never seen him before. Coming home had him unsettled. It was written all over him.

Despite the uncertainty that there might be someone else in his life, she could feel herself falling for him. It wasn't just a little pang here and a twinge there anymore. Change of some sort was coming and just the thought of it, the possibility of it, had finally shoved her over the edge entirely.

She'd been reminded that nothing was set in stone. Not even this man who, until now, had always seemed so set in his ways. So sure of what he considered right and wrong, that he could come across as almost arrogant at times.

Despite what she was feeling, she said calmly, “Guess I’ll see you around, Coach.”

“That ya will, ma’am.” He smiled faintly, knowing how things worked in a small town. They'd cross paths again.

Only now, as he started to turn to walk away, did he wonder what would happen when they did bump into one another again. All the freedom he'd enjoyed over the past several days was gone. This wasn't the big city or the open road where everyone was a stranger to everyone else. There, no one cared what he was doing. Here, he was a cop under a microscope.

He glanced into the sedan's backseat as he passed. The twins stirred, only to settle back into sleep. “It ain’t too late for ya, is it?" he looked back to her and asked worriedly. He'd gotten so used to looking after the three of them. "You can find the place alright?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I can handle it.”

He didn’t want to push. She was used to being on her own. So, he settled for saying, “Goodnight, ma’am.”

She replied in kind. Though tempted from the moment she'd gotten out from behind the wheel, she refrained from kissing him goodbye. With the intense feelings she had crashing around inside of her now, she didn't quite trust herself to not go overboard. He'd bolt like a skittish horse if she came on too strong.

“I’m glad ya came back, ma'am. Just give it time. Everything'll work out,” he said. He hadn't bothered to lock his truck, so he merely opened the door and tossed his bag into the cab.

As if his sincerity wasn't enough, his words seemed almost prognostic to what she was feeling. If she wasn't going home to a warm bed and she wasn't going to get to kiss the boy, she could handle ending the long day like this instead. There'd be a warm bed by tomorrow and maybe she'd eventually get to kiss the boy. As Bubba had said, just give it time.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Hush up back there! It’s just me,” Bubba yelled over the fence. Just as he expected, the dog stopped barking and began to yip and whine excitedly at the sound of his voice.

He could hear the rhythmic thump of the dog's tail against the privacy fence as the dog shadowed him up the walk. Coming to the end of the fence, where it met the edge of the house, Bubba continued on, leaving his dog behind. Undeterred, the bird dog bounded around to the back. Bubba knew from experience that Knothead would station himself like a graying sentry at the back patio door until he was let inside.

“I’m comin’. I’m comin’. Damn dog,” he muttered as he fumbled around for his house key. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d missed the ancient mongrel. There was just something special about a loyal dog's adoration. It was unconditional love that couldn't be matched anywhere else.

Once inside, he turned on the lights in the front hall. With much of the first floor having an open concept, light spilled across the living room, where he tossed his coat on the sofa. He flopped down next to it and thumbed through the huge stack of mail Lonnie and Parker had collected for him.

As he encountered one bill after another, he was glad he paid everything electronically. Otherwise, he’d have been way overdue by now. He had been hesitant to jump into the computer age at first, but his job had demanded it.

With his mail given a precursory inspection and finding nothing that needed immediate attention, he looked to his answering machine. The red light was blinking, just as he expected. One message or a hundred could possibly be waiting, but he would have wagered on a number somewhere near the halfway point. He trusted Lonnie and Parker to delete anything frivolous and to pass on anything of importance to him. Whatever was left was likely recent or somewhere in the middle, too close for anyone other than himself to discern as important or not.

He was stiff and exhausted, but wanted certain things done before he tried to get some sleep. He was on schedule to have his head hit the pillow just before the sun came up. He feared he'd get his second wind and be unable to sleep if he saw the light of dawn peeking through his window.

He groaned as he got up from the sofa, determined to stay on schedule. He approached the blinking machine and hit play. Some voices he recognized, some he didn’t. The audible date and time stamp confirmed he was listening to the oldest messages first. He couldn't help but overlap them with the timeline of what had happened to him over the past several weeks.

Everything sounded so normal, as people went about their usual routines, unaware that Parker was missing. Then carrying on unaware of what was happening to him. It made him uneasy as voices brought the past back to him and made it all real again. He'd been getting along pretty well just leaving it all veiled in a dreamlike fog. It was just as Althea had described it. So hard to believe, he could practically talk himself into thinking it didn't happen, but the voices gave him a reality pinch.

No, he couldn't claim it was all a dream. Especially as, here and there, normalcy began to falter in more and more of the messages. Uncertainty reigned as people struggled with what was rumor and what was fact.

Uncomfortable and feeling that he was wasting time just standing there, he turned up the volume and went to see if anything had sprouted mold or something worse in his refrigerator.

Opening the appliance door, he found that nothing had exploded yet. To keep it that way, he wasted no time tossing out half the contents. He made a game of hitting the waste basket across the room.

He was pretty much done when the machine announced that fact had finally won out over rumors. The calls had stopped coming as people realized that it was true that he was in no condition to pull strings for them or deal with their problems.

A few calls trickled in from people he couldn't possibly expect to know what was going on. They were oblivious and would remain that way. Then came the worst of it, hearing a familiar voice.

A woman said, “I heard about what happened. I called the station and... well, I’d feel better hearing from you. I’m worried out of my mind.” A muffled voice could barely be discerned in the background. “I stand corrected, all of us are worried. When you feel up to it, call me.”

“Damn,” he muttered. He’d hoped that he could avoid her until everything had settled. He wasn’t eager to talk to her about what had happened.

He returned her call, despite the hour, knowing she would want him to. He was relieved to get her machine and left a simple message stating that he was still amongst the living.

He went to the backdoor and finally let in the dog. It was nice to have someone so glad to see him, especially now that his mind was running with scenarios as to why the woman he had just called wasn't home. It worried him a little. Actually, considering her life style, it worried him a lot.

He knelt down and scratched the hound behind the ears and told him, “I’m surprised you can be so fond of a worthless bastard like me.”

Knothead only leaned into him lovingly and gave him a brief lick under the chin.

xxxxxxxxxx

Officer Peake stepped aside and held open one of the two front doors of the convenience store for the paramedics. He then followed in their wake and watched as Luke showed the medics the way to their latest victim.

“Guy sure doesn’t waste any time. Last robbery was only the night before last,” Luke said, shaking his head wearily.

With cruisers parked strategically outside and an ambulance front and center, anyone with common sense would have avoided the scene. Unfortunately, there were a lot of people running around without common sense, especially at the wee hours of the morning. At any moment they could have anything from a drunk to a gawker walk through the door.

Several minutes had passed when one of the front doors opened again and both officers looked up, wondering who or what they had. Peake spoke first, “Evenin’, Detective.”

“Evenin’ Peake... Luke,” Lonnie acknowledged. He wore a grim expression, having seen the ambulance outside. He was a grim sight as a whole, unshaven and his hair merely finger combed. He had never really been a suit and tie man, like his predecessor, Virgil Tibbs, but his casual look had been downgraded to sloppy with a wrinkled black t-shirt and torn jeans.

Virgil had been a hard act to follow, all the way around. He was a consummate professional. A man who seldom lost his cool and always kept a respectable air of refinement.

Finding himself in the same position and feeling that he couldn't reach the bar that Virgil had set, Lonnie had finally asked Virgil how he'd done it. Virgil had just grinned his award winning smile and said, "Behind every great man is a great woman... or two."

As he brushed wrinkles out of his shirt and combed his fingers through his hair one last time, Lonnie could relate. It was a tough job, especially for a bachelor. In many ways, his job was the like the convenience stores he kept finding himself in at two, three and four a.m. They were supposed to be there for the public 24/7.

He'd thrown around the idea of hiring a maid. Everyone seemed to think he needed a girlfriend instead, but that didn't make a great deal of sense to him. If he didn't have time to take care of himself, where would he find the time to devote to someone else. You invested money in one and time in the other, though cynics would say a girlfriend demanded both. He had plenty of money and no time. It seemed simple enough to him.

Luke brought the detective up to speed, “He knocked out the clerk. Gave him a nasty knot on the head."

As if on cue, the paramedics lifted their gurney, finally satisfied that they had done what they could and it was time to go. One of them interjected, “I’d say more than a nasty knot. Won’t know for sure until we run him in, but I think this poor guy has a fractured skull.”

Luke grimaced, thinking of how much force would be required to do that sort of damage and what it could do to the fragile brain. He would never want to be on the receiving end of that sort of injury. He couldn't even imagine inflicting it on someone else. It made him queasy.

Lonnie looked to Peake, then to the Luke and said, “If he's right, this could turn into a homicide real easy.”

Luke asked, “What set him off? Why the change?” So far, their guy had been armed, but fairly docile.

Lonnie stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched through the plate glass store front as the paramedics loaded their patient into the back of the ambulance. “Good question.”

“Detective, there’s also this,” Peake called from the back of the store.

Lonnie looked indifferent as he reached the back of the store and scanned the storage room, but in truth his eyes had narrowed a little, focusing on a scene he didn't know what to make of.

Peake pointed to an object in the far corner. “Guessin’ he used that.”

The object had once been a light-duty hand truck for moving boxes of merchandise, but it was now just a mangled mess of metal pipe. The whole angled steel plate at the bottom had been torn free. One rubber wheel was askew. The other laid on the floor several feet away.

Lonnie, notorious for his perfect poker face, only expressed his unease with an intensity in his voice that hadn't been there before. “Did you guys touch anything?”

Luke and Peake shared a glance and responded, “No, sir.” Though it was a high traffic scene that wasn't likely to produce anything worthwhile, they always played it safe.

Rubbing his jaw, Lonnie replied, “Good, cause our boy is losing it." Looking back into the brightly lit store, he murmured, as if to himself, “It's just a matter of time... if he hasn't slipped up already.”

Luke had followed Lonnie’s gaze out to the store floor, but now he returned his attention to what had lured them into the dimly lit back room. A battered steel cage occupied one wall. Its door was barely hanging by one hinge, with the padlock that kept it secure sheered off. A new floor buffer sat beneath the shelves unscathed, along with a toolbox and some heavy duty cleaning products.

It was the VCR on the shelf above all that which was of interest. Of the older style, the top of the machine was flipped open, showing it was empty. Still plugged in, trailing a dark cord, another machine clicked and squealed, shattered on the floor just inside the protective cage. No one expected to find a tape in that one either.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lonnie had a few ideas running through his head when he left the crime scene. Instead of continuing on his way home, he returned to the station. He wanted to compare some notes while things were fresh in his mind.

He was surprised to find the chief sitting at his own desk, rummaging through paperwork. Lonnie asked, “What has you here so late, Chief? Or should I say early?”

“I face the evil beast this morning. I must arm myself,” Bill replied. He often referred to the city council as a gruesome entity these days, though he was married to a woman who had been elected to the group time and time again.

Lonnie was soon rummaging through his own stack of files. “I assume you’ve heard the latest.”

Bill nodded and gave Lonnie his full attention, saying, “The hospital called. Mr. Reed has a fractured skull, as suspected.”

Lonnie only rubbed his face wearily, not liking the news on several levels. Most importantly, he didn't like that things were escalating. Someone would eventually get killed if he didn't catch this guy.

The older man continued, “He seems to be doing far better than expected. No real complications... yet.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Lonnie muttered, knowing how ugly head injuries could get.

There was a short silence as they both skimmed files and turned pages. Lonnie finally spoke up, “How does it look?”

Bill recognized the tone and replied, “Harriet’s concerned, as am I.”

Lonnie only shook his head and sat in silence for a moment. If only the city council would do something constructive with their time, rather than throw up obstacles to make everything that much more difficult for the department. Even worse, they would put up their road blocks, then act surprised when traffic ground to a halt.

Bill ended the silence with, “Well, at least we have some good news. Althea will be here soon with our missing captain in tow.”

“How long until he can come back to work?”

Bill sounded tired as he reasoned, “We’ll see what the doctors have to say."

“Bubba won’t be happy.”

Bill became more serious. “I’m not getting as much argument from him as I usually do. Not that I don’t believe he’s eager to come back, I just believe he’s still feeling pretty poorly.”

Lonnie looked up from files and notebooks strewn across his desk. Concern knitted his brow.

Bill looked Lonnie in the eye as he admitted, “As old as he’s getting, he’s not bouncing back like he used to.” He leaned forward at his desk. “Parker and I also downplayed the situation.” Bill paused. With a hint of unease, he continued, “It was a far closer call than we led everyone to believe.”

Lonnie felt a chill skitter across his bones, which wasn’t relieved by what Bill said next. “I don’t want anyone pushing him to come back, even if it’s in fun. He’s good at covering up and that’s what he’ll do, especially if he thinks we need him.”

“We do need him,” Lonnie admitted.

Bill muttered more to himself, “The proverbial rock and a hard place.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Lonnie had his nose buried in a box in the evidence room when he heard the ruckus start. He smiled as he realized that Bubba must have walked in the front door. He kept digging around, it would be awhile before he’d get his turn to talk to him anyway.

Lonnie squinted at something he found interesting. Minutes turned into half an hour before he knew it.

“Not good enough to say hello?” Bubba teased.

Lonnie came back around to the present. “Sorry, Bubba, got preoccupied.” He shoved the box back into its slot and turned. After the conversation that he’d shared with the chief earlier, he wasn’t surprised to see Bubba looking paler than usual, even a little thinner. Most notable, his friend was a lot scruffier.

Bubba asked, “You keep everybody out of trouble while I was gone?”

Lonnie rubbed his chin in feigned frustration. “I knew I forgot to do something.”

Bubba chuckled at him, then asked, “So, where’s the chief?”

“The usual, being abused by the city council.”

Bubba grimaced at the thought of the chief going through the torture that he usually endured in his place. He then realized that the older man had probably taken on most of his other duties as well. Bubba didn’t like the thought of that at all. “How have things really been, Lonnie? Know I haven’t been around to take care of a lotta’ things... and with Parka’ gone too....”

“We managed, Bubba. Don’t worry about it.” He wanted to change the subject and said, “So, when did you get back into town?”

“Early this mornin’.”

“And you’re comin’ in already?”

Bubba shrugged. “Couldn’t resist.” In truth, he'd been wide awake since hearing that troubling message on his machine. He now wished he'd reached her instead of getting her machine. If only he could have gone to bed clear headed. Even now, he continued to wonder what was going on and how she had found out.

“The drive?” Lonnie asked.

Bubba smiled. “Long... but fun. Kids can turn about anything into an adventure.”

“How are they? After everything?”

“Like nothin’ happened. Typical kids, ya knock ‘em down and they get right back up.”

“And their mom?”

“She’s movin’ on. She’s anxious about the move, but who wouldn’t be. Just packin’ up and all.”

Lonnie nodded in agreement, echoing Bubba's own sentiment early that morning. “It might take a while to settle in, but she’ll be glad she did it.”

Bubba leaned against one of several shelving units and changed the subject one last time. “So, how much trouble am I in?”

Lonnie shot him a glance, a bit confused.

“You know, with what happened?” Bubba rubbed his neck and said, “Got the impression the chief was pretty mad. I can see why, I messed everything up pretty good.”

Lonnie didn’t feel right speaking for the chief, but he said what he knew for certain, “He was angry, but not with you.”

Before Bubba could respond, Lonnie leaned to look out into the bullpen and said, “Speak of the devil.”

Bubba turned to see Bill walking in the front door. Resisting the urge to drag his feet, he greeted the chief as he passed the evidence room.

Bill looked him up and down. “Finally decided to show up. About time.” He hustled past the younger man, asking, “How was your trip?”

“Like I just told Lonnie, long.”

“Indeed. Seems that nothing is more taxing than a cross country drive.” Bill hung up his coat and hat before proceeding to his desk. “Well, what brings you here?”

Bubba looked around. “Just wanted to see everybody, I s’pose.”

Bill only stared at Bubba in a way that made the younger man uncomfortable. Bubba attempted to break the tension by asking, “So, how’d it go with the city council?” He then took up his usual spot on the dark davenport, but perched on the edge nervously.

“I have survived the latest three rounds,” the chief said curtly.

Bubba, hunched tiredly, looked at his hands as he knitted them together in his lap. He seemed extremely interested in a battle going on between his thumbs. “That’s good.”

Bill only studied him with icy blue eyes. Bubba could feel them drilling in, knowing the older man all too well. He contemplated getting up to escape to more friendly waters, when Bill stopped him by finally asking, “Well, aren’t you going to tell me how you are?”

Bubba eased back slowly. He unclenched his hands, leaving his thumbs to finish their little war some other day, “Um, good. I’m good.”

“Sure? You look pale.”

“Yeah, Ms. Tibbs was sayin’ that too, but I feel alright.” He remembered too late that it was Peterson now. "Lil' tired is all."

“Yes, I had the pleasure of talking to our lovely Althea. She was checking in, curious to know if the moving truck had arrived on schedule.”

“Yeah, she told me about that.” Bubba said nothing more. Old habits were hard to break and one of his oldest was watching what he said about Althea. Keeping quiet just made things easier. Much easier.

“She also had some interesting things to say about you.”

“Me?” Bubba asked, raising an eyebrow, unsure what they’d be talking about.

It was no surprise, with the way the universe seemed to work, that the one time Bubba suddenly wanted to talk about Althea, he wouldn't get to. The chief held up his hand as he diverted the conversation to suit him, seeing that he'd touched a nerve. “Just take it easy. Relax. Enjoy your leave while you’ve got it... and that's not a suggestion.”

Bubba’s temper flared and he drawled, “Got any more  _non_ -suggestions for me, Chief?”

Bill leaned back casually and replied, “No, I do believe that’s all.”

Bubba hated when the old man got smug with him. He stood up and said hotly, “Well, nice seein’ you too, Chief.”

It wasn’t until Bill was alone in his office that he smiled. The boy looked worse for wear, but he was as easy to rile as ever.

xxxxxxxxxx

“We almost get everything moved, _then_ you show up,” Ken scolded lightly.

Bubba slammed his truck door. “Betta’ watch it, Covey, or you won’t be gettin’ no promotions.”

Ken flashed a huge smile over the boxes he was weighed down with. “Good to see ya, Bubba.”

“That’s more like it. Now where is she?”

“Inside ordering everybody around... of course.”

Bubba echoed, “Of course.”

“And no carrying anything.”

Bubba had started to walk away, only to turn slowly and give Ken a quizzical look.

“Orders from....” Ken nodded to the bustling house.

“I swear, that woman...,” Bubba grumbled. He threw up his hands. “Alright. Alright. I won’t touch nothin’.”

Bubba walked in the door to hear Althea ask, “Well, what do you think?”

He nodded his approval. “Not bad.” He looked around briefly, stopping periodically to step aside or greet someone he hadn’t seen since he’d returned home.

Althea walked into the kitchen and made herself busy. “I let the kids go exploring. Told them just this street though.” She laughed, “Otherwise, I wouldn’t see them again for days.”

Bubba spoke, sounding distant, “Yeah, kids like to explore.”

She looked at him worriedly. “What’s up with you today? You seem distracted.” She was quickly distracted herself as she yelled, “Just put that one over there. That’s good.”

During a moment alone with her, he said, “Stopped by the station this mornin’.”

“I’d think that would put you in a great mood,” she replied, expecting from his bleak tone that it hadn't gone well for some reason.

“It did, until I had to talk to the chief.”

“You two aren’t getting along?” she asked, surprised.

“Not exactly,” he said, moping around the kitchen. He peeked into several open boxes. Studied the new surroundings. The place was obviously a rental. It was clean enough and not in utter disrepair, but it had that unloved look that most rentals had. No one cared about it enough to take care of the little details.

“Hmm,” was her only reply. She diverted her attention back to the work at hand, putting away her silverware. She tossed the empty box on top of a growing pile and opened another.

He leaned against the counter next to her and studied her as she worked.  _She knows, or else she'd be askin'._ After a moment, Bubba's voice gave away his annoyance. "I don’t need you two gangin’ up on me.”

She rummaged around for the last of her spatulas. "Last time I checked, Bill Gillespie was a stubborn old coot who could fight his own battles. No help from me required."

"You ain’t denyin’ it."

She turned to face him, now with a ladle in hand. “Denying what?"

The argument was interrupted as Luann leaned in the kitchen door. “Where do you want the kids’ stuff?”

Althea furrowed her brow for a moment. “Anywhere upstairs is fine. They haven’t picked their rooms yet.”

Luann looked over to Bubba, seeing him for the first time since he’d returned. “You’re too skinny.” After coming close and giving Bubba a gentle squeeze of a hug, she added, “And what’s with all this scruff?” She rubbed his cheek before dragging him down to plant a chaste kiss on it. She knew it would make him blush, which was the best reason for doing it.

“Like it?” he asked with a broad smile. His pale face had reddened a little, just like she'd hoped for.

“No!” She rubbed his cheek again and laughed. The hair wasn't rough and bristly enough to be stubble anymore. In her opinion, he had officially grown himself a beard. It wasn't that he looked bad with it. He just wasn't supposed to look so different.

She finally added, “I’d better get back out there. Ken will cry if I don’t do my share.” She gave Bubba a look that said everything she couldn’t find the words to express. He only gave her a bashful smile in return, suddenly looking a lot more like the man she remembered.

xxxxxxxxxx

Everyone had finally cleared out. The house was a jumble of boxes, but it was quiet.

Bubba crossed his arms and looked over at Althea. “Where were we?”

Althea knew exactly what he was referring to, but hoped to avoid it. “You were just offering to climb up there and see how dirty the cabinet tops are.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was somethin’ else.” He added, “But I’ll look anyways.”

Obviously, he wasn’t willing to drop the subject. She gave in, watching him swipe for dust with a finger, “He asked about you, so I was honest. That’s as far as it went. I let him draw his own conclusions.”

He hopped down, quickly wishing he hadn’t as pain arced through his chest. He finally managed, “Wouldn’t eat off ‘em, but you don't have critters livin’ up there.”

She smiled weakly at him. “Do you want to know what I said?”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the countertop wearily. A dull throbbing lingered under his ribs as he admitted, “Your conversations with other folks aren't any of my business. If ya was honest, then I guess that’s all that matta’s.”

“Am I off the hook?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re off the hook.” The way he graced her with a warm gaze suggested she had never really been on the hook at all. With everything that had happened to him recently, being angry with people he cared for seemed a waste of time.

“Good." She would never want to see disappointment in those dark eyes of his over something she had done, or worse, due to overall disappointment in her. It was those same dark eyes and how they got to her that made her say, "Now, how about lunch? I’ll buy and you can show me around. I bet a lot has changed.”

“Same ol’ Sparta, ma’am,” he said dryly. He wanted to spend the afternoon with her, but he didn’t feel up to it.

“You’re telling me that nothing has changed in this town? At all? I find that hard to believe," she teased.

He felt guilty about trampling her enthusiasm. Forcing a smile, he replied, “Well, I guess a few things have changed. If ya really wanna look around....”

“Oh, I want! I’m tired of looking at boxes.” She tossed yet another emptied box on the pile.

“Kids be alright with ya gone?”

“They’ve got a key... and I'll bring them back something.” She set about uncluttering the kitchen table for future use. "I won't even say what I made them for breakfast. You're a cop after all. You might arrest me for child abuse."

That got a laugh out of him. “Well, what would the lady like to see first?”

“Food!”

“Alright, food first. Then the sights.” He warned, "But you're gonna be disappointed."

She really doubted that, happy to get out and get back to a bit of normalcy. “Just give me five minutes.” She practically bounded out the door, a sign she really did mean five minutes.

Bubba watched her leave. As soon as she was out of range, he dug a bottle of pain killers out of his jacket pocket. He downed two of them quickly at the kitchen sink.  _You’re too damn eager to please_ , he thought.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bubba wondered why his alarm clock was going off, then realized it wasn’t the clock. He wasn’t even in bed, but on his couch. Sitting up, he struggled to thoroughly wake himself. Finally recognizing the doorbell, he ambled to the front door. He paused briefly to comb his hair with his fingers.

He threw open the front door in annoyance to find Parker on his doorstep.

“Jeez, Bubba. It’s past noon. You been on a bender or something?” Parker teased.

“What time is it?” Bubba asked, still groggy.

“Round one o’clock.”

Bubba had the need for some fresh air. He walked out, instead of inviting Parker in. He couldn’t believe that he’d slept so long. He didn’t even want to know how bad he looked. “Guess it all finally caught up with me. So, what brings ya by, Parka’?”

Bubba used the porch railing as a seat. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before. He knew he’d been exhausted after showing Althea around town, but sleeping so long actually concerned him a little.

“If somebody had bothered to come by and see me when he got back to town...,” Parker muttered.

Bubba replied tiredly, “Sorry 'bout that.”

“I’m just giving ya trouble. Bet you’re pretty tired... have lots of things to take care of.” Parker wondered if he should just go. His friend looked pretty rough.

Bubba could read all the signs. Parker had just wanted to hang around for awhile and he figured he knew why. Sliding off the railing, he said, “Let me get my ugly mug half way presentable and you can tell me about everything I’ve missed.”

Bubba was soon slipping into a clean shirt. He called to Parker in the next room, “So, how is she?”

Parker was wandering around the living room, not really looking at anything in particular. “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Parka’ Williams. Neva’ seen ya so stuck on anybody in my life.”

“Oh, _her_!”

Bubba only smiled to himself. Teasing Parker had always been one of his favorite pastimes.

Parker sat down on the sofa and said in a solemn tone, “Haven’t talked to her. She’s gone.”

Until now, Bubba's biggest dilemma of the day was deciding whether to tuck in his shirt or not. Parker’s words brought him back to more pressing issues and he strode into the living room, shirt untucked and forgotten. “Wha’da’ya mean she’s gone?”

Parker shrugged sadly. “She told me she was being moved to another facility and that communications weren’t as secure there. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Bubba felt a deep pang of sympathy for Parker. This could easily be the end of his relationship with Marissa. Some would suggest that they didn’t even have a real relationship, but Bubba knew better. He sat down in a chair adjacent to his friend and tried to think of something reassuring to say.

Parker admitted, “I didn’t go into it blindly, Bubba. I knew this was likely to happen, but still....”

After a moment, Bubba felt that it was appropriate to interject, “Kinda’ hard not to take that gamble, with love bein’ hard to come by.”

Parker looked up with a genuine smile. He was happy to know that someone seemed to understand. “Everybody else thinks I was nuts for even trying.”

“Well, I don’t. Life’s short. Sometimes ya just have to take a risk and see what happens.” The conversation he'd had with Althea, while they were still in Philadelphia, came quickly to mind. There was nothing wrong with wanting to get the most out of life.

Parker muttered, “Now comes the hard part.”

Bubba only looked at him curiously.

“Trying to decide what to do now. We talked about it. About her going on with her life and me going on with mine.” He looked away thoughtfully. “But it just doesn’t feel right even thinking about it.”

“Well, then _don’t_ think about it," Bubba advised. "Ya don't have to move on. Waitin’ for her is your own business, son. Nobody else’s. It's your decision to make.”


	2. Chapter 2

She held the refrigerator door open and savored the cool air flowing over her bare legs. As the appliance began to labor and squall against the heat, she took pity on it and quickly picked out a soda. After she closed the door, the compressor kept running, sounding worse to her than it ever had before. Maybe it needed to go on the repair list too.

The old farm house was trapped in some sort of time warp. Every appliance was either avocado green, goldenrod or faux wood. Brown and orange dominated from floor to ceiling everywhere she went, from faded orange shag carpets to white wall paper with delicate brown and orange vertical stripes. Someone had really spruced the place up thirty or forty years ago. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was playing a part in a bad seventies sitcom.

She popped the top on the can. The time warp made her think of the good old days when soda came in bottles and she'd take them, packed in the cardboard sleeve, back to the local mom and pop grocery to get a deposit. The glass bottles gave off a unique sound as they jostled against one another. It was a sound that had went the way of feathered hair and beta machines.

She picked up the magazine she’d been reading. She didn’t open it. She fanned it back and forth, cooling herself, as she continued to reminisce. She was a long way from home. A long way from the little town where she'd grown up, with Coke bottles and Pac Man.

“The guy will be out to fix the AC tomorrow,” someone said from behind her.

She didn’t turn. She only rubbed one bare foot down the back of her calf and asked, “Is it always this hot in the fall?”

“Well, this is Texas. It’s hot most of the damn time.”

She moved to peer out the screen door. The steps beyond it led out into the saddest back yard she'd ever seen. What had once been grass was now islands of brown in an ocean of cracked, sun-bleached dirt. The only thing close to being considered green were a few tufts of weeds. Even the leaves on the trees seemed trapped in a perpetual state of near death, the wrong shade of brown to blame on the changing season, but not brown enough to classify as dead.

Finally she turned, the expression on her pretty face one of utter frustration. “I'm tired of everything being so brown... and I’m bored out of my mind.”

Her only companion in the small kitchen flashed a mischievous grin. “I could help you with that.”

She rolled her eyes at the forty something man, but offered no snappy comeback. Anything short of a threat to gouge out his eyes would just give him the impression she was flirting back. She knew the type. Though annoying, he was harmless.

Agent Cornwell wasn’t a bad looking man. He was mildly handsome, with a good physique. Probably why he tended to come on too strongly, he was seldom rejected.

Cornwell didn't find her all that attractive, but he had heard enough stories to make him think he had a real shot at meaningless sex with her. What was the harm, with so much time to kill out in the middle of nowhere.

Thinking it would be easy, her continued rejections were starting to irk him. He stated harshly, “I forgot, you only go for dirtbags.”

Marissa turned away in disgust, more with herself than with the other agent, recognizing the jab about her relationship with Johnny. Yes, she'd been sleeping with him and considering how coldly she looked back on his passing, it was pretty clear she had loathed him. Cornwell was apparently taking that to mean she'd sleep with anyone.

"Was there anything else, Ryan?" she asked, still refusing to look at him. If he could have seen her face, he'd have seen her smug smile. Johnny had been lousy in bed. Laughably bad, now that she could look back with detachment. She was getting a good giggle on the inside at Cornwell's expense, imagining him being just as bad.

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker hadn’t stopped by with the intention of unloading his dismal baggage on Bubba’s doorstep, but that’s what had happened. He now wished he could take it back. Bubba appeared to be having enough problems of his own. He only looked a tiny bit better than death warmed over, but Parker knew better than to ask his friend how he was doing. He wouldn't get an honest answer.

Parker forced himself out of a bleak mood and asked cheerfully, “Enough about my problems, how did the trip go?”

Bubba smiled warmly, grateful for the change of topic. “It was nice. Just took it easy for awhile. A lotta' pretty country 'tween here and there.”

Parker’s improved mood went from forced to natural as the prospects of this conversation hit him. Bubba and Althea had been the buzz of the station. He had the opportunity to be the first to know if anything had happened, but he’d have to be subtle. Bubba wasn't one for bragging about his love life. “So, see anything interesting?”

“Stopped at pretty much every point of interest on the way.” Bubba made a face. “Just proves there really _are_ a lot of scary people out there.”

“You stop at one of those roadside freak shows?” Parker asked, thinking back to his youth when his father had taken him to Iowa. Somewhere along the way, he'd ended up in a run down barn looking at a living, breathing two-headed cow.

Bubba corrected lightly, “I was talkin’ more 'bout the tourists.”

Parker tried to picture Bubba mingling with camera wielding suburbanites from Connecticut, then he remembered that the hunt was still on for what could possibly be the best gossip to go around the department in years. “So, you two get along alright? Stick two people in a car....”

Bubba let slip a hint of a crooked smile, as his gut told him to approach with caution. _You two. Two people._ He answered, “Nah, we got along pretty good... but the kids fought a lot.”

Parker nodded in understanding, not deterred. “Did you stay anywhere interestin’?”

He knew for certain now that Parker was pumping him for information. He couldn’t help but lead him along, playing dumb, “No... no, can't say that we did." He added, trying to sound as unguarded as possible, "Ya just make the best of it.... ya make your own entertainment."

Bubba laid on the hardest to read smile he could manage and added a good natured wink as a confusing cherry on top.

By the way Parker leaned forward just a bit, eyes bright and eager, Bubba knew his friend had taken the bait. Parker proved he wasn't just hooked, but hooked deep as he asked quickly, “So, how many nights were you on the road?”

Bubba counted off on his fingers as he said, “Three... no, four.”

“That’s a lot of time to spend with someone.”

“True," Bubba agreed, "but a pretty lady can be good company.”

Bubba's sincerity was what pushed his friend over the edge, putting a big goofy grin on Parker's face. That, in turn, was too much for Bubba, who started to snicker and shake his head.

Parker snorted, “You’ve been on to me all along.”

Bubba laughed, “Parka’, ya might as well be holdin’ up a sign ova’ there.” He only regained his composure when Parker looked at him indignantly.

Parker leaned back in his chair and with his elbow on the arm rest, pouted with his chin in his hand, “I had to try.”

Bubba stretched and put his hands behind his head, feeling victorious for once. “Should have just asked, I’d have told ya. Nothin’ happened. Not a thing.” It was probably the first time in his life that he took so much enjoyment out of admitting that he hadn't gotten anywhere with a woman. The look on Parker's face was priceless.

Blue eyes begged. "Nothin'?"

“Nothin’.”

“Nothin’ at all. First, Lonnie. Now you." Parker had shifted out of his pouting pose. "Throw me somethin’. Anything.”

With nothing to share, Bubba only shrugged.

“Four nights. You two. Together. And nothin’?”

Bubba stirred, feeling uneasy as Parker continued to push hard. His friend seemed way too certain about what was supposed to be going on in his life. He reasoned, “It’s not like we was sharin’ a room, Parka’.”

“Why not?”

Parker had asked the question with such deftness that Bubba was left wondering what the hell he had missed. He sat up straight and asked forcefully, “Why would we?”

“Cause....” Parker stammered on, “She’s... are you blind?”

Bubba relaxed a little, thinking he finally understood what was going on. Parker had an exciting new romance going and now he wanted every single friend he had to be knee deep in love too. He said gently, “No, Parka’, I ain’t blind. I know she’s pretty... _real_ pretty... and smart... and lots of otha' things too, but that don’t mean I should make a move on her.”

Parker just sat dumbfounded.  _He really has no clue_ . “Not even a peck on the cheek?”

“Sorry.” Bubba leaned back. He wasn't going to get stirred up again, no matter how hard Parker tried.

“Hand holdin’?”

“Well, sure." Brown eyes conveyed total innocence. "Don’t know who drug me around more, her or the kids.”

Parker muttered wearily, “Well, that’s a start, I guess.”

Bubba looked at him with growing concern, worried it might be a little more than just wanting to spread the romance around. “Why are you so hell bent on me and her?”

Parker avoided Bubba's gaze, knowing he wasn't a good liar. “No reason.”

Bubba admitted, “I care for her as much as you do, Parka’. I want her to be happy, but I’m not the guy for her. Wish I was, but I’m not.”

He saw Parker look up with a hope filled expression, so he quickly added, “Don’t take that wrong, Parka’. Didn’t mean it that way.”

With no response from his friend at all, Bubba finally asked, “Is this somethin’ you’ve got yourself set on or is it goin’ around?”

Bubba, reading Parker's continued silence like a book, had a pretty good idea what was going on. It was a little bit of both. He was thinking of how rumors were likely flying at the station when he warned, “Y’all don't go botherin’ her with this. I won’t be happy if ya do.”

Parker was the most likely to stick his nose where it didn't belong and even he knew better than to pester Althea Peterson. Everyone knew better. The reason no one dared was sitting there, looking annoyed, with shaggy hair almost falling into his stormy glare.

Parker had been told not to take it the wrong way, but with Bubba being so overly protective of Althea, how could he not take it the way it had sounded. _I'm not the guy for her. Wish I was, but I'm not._

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill took a moment to savor the smell of his steak. He then took great pleasure in shaking salt out over his mashed potatoes, making sure to get a little extra in the very center of the pool of gravy on top. When he was younger, he’d have never imagined that shaking out a bit of salt could be such a forbidden pleasure.

He was moving to put the shaker aside when someone interrupted him by clearing their throat. He then heard, “Um, you s’posed to be eatin’ that, Chief?”

Bill gave Bubba a sideways glance of contempt. “You know I’m not, so why are you asking?”

Bubba tried hard to suppress a smile. “No reason, Chief. No reason at all.”

“My boy, my better half is absent and I intend to enjoy being the worse half.” With that said, he began to cut into the juicy slab of beef. It bled, just they way he liked it and just the way he wasn't allowed to have it.

“Won’t tattle on ya, Chief. Promise.” With that peace offering said, Bubba pulled out a chair and sat down. Their table was dead center of the busy cafe, leaving Bubba surrounded by lots of familiar faces.

“If you did tattle, I’d deny it all,” Bill admitted. He then took his first bite of rare steak carefully, savoring it. Harriet wouldn't be away for long and when she got back, someone other than Bubba would tattle on him. They always did.

A waitress came by with full hands, but as usual, went out of her way to ask Bubba if he wanted anything.

“Nah, I’m good, Kathleen.” He watched her for a moment, admiring how the waitresses at the cafe made it all look so easy when the place was packed.

Bubba looked back to find his boss eyeing him closely. “What?” was all he grunted.

“You? Not hungry? That’s surprising.” Bill tested his coffee and decided it needed more sugar, before saying, “You should eat....”

Bubba interrupted, “Don’t say it. I’ve heard it from one end of town to the otha’.”

Bill quickly stated, “You’re too thin.”

Rolling his eyes, Bubba only shifted in his chair and groaned. A different phrase, but it all meant the same thing.

“I’m having pie," Bill stated boldly. "Have pie. That’s an order.”

Bubba shook his head wearily, thinking of all the various things he'd been offered. Every woman in town wanted to feed him. “I don’t want any pie.”

“I didn’t say you wanted it, but you’re having it.”

“That’s it, I’m leavin’.” Bubba began to rise, but with little real intent.

“No, you’re not. You came in here for a reason. What is it?”

Having good news for a change, Bubba brightened and replied, “The doc says two more weeks and I'm back.”

Bill lifted an eyebrow and his coffee cup both. “Really.”

Feelings bruised, Bubba sighed, “Don’t sound so excited."

“Set in stone?” the older man asked gruffly.

“Well, no. I go back in two weeks and get poked and prodded some more, but he said it’ll probably be two weeks.”

“But it could be more?”

Bubba hated how the chief seemed to always play the pessimist. “Yeah, I suppose it could be more.”

Bill nodded, but remained stone faced and less interested in the meal he'd been so eager to enjoy only minutes before.

“You’re still mad.” Bubba looked away to hide his frustration, not particularly with his boss, but with the whole situation. The old man had every right to be mad, he certainly was. The past few weeks had been a fiasco, not all of which was his doing.

“I’m not angry,” Bill stated coolly.

“Then why the cold shoulda'? Eva' since I got back...”

“All this arguing is going to turn my stomach and I’m not missing out on pie,” Bill stated, stabbing his fork in the younger man’s direction.

Bubba only fumed in his seat across the table. He hadn't been frustrated with the old man before, but he was now.

Finally, Bill admitted, “There’s more to this and it has me concerned is all. I’m glad to have you back.” Bubba seemed doubtful, so Bill added, “And I swear it on that glorious pie she’s bringing me right now.”

Bill was soon looking down at a work of art. Pecan. The nuts were laid out in a beautiful pattern, suggesting how much time and attention someone had given to bake the pie from scratch.

Undeterred by the pie, Bubba growled, “Chief, what the hell is goin’....”

Bill only shook his fork. His mouth was full, having committed the taboo of attacking the pie before finishing his main course. As soon as he could, he replied, “No more talk about that. I want to talk to you about something else. The doctors have informed me that we can question Mr. Reed soon. I don’t consider that a very strenuous task. Think you can handle it?”

“Well, sure. When?”

“Since complications arose, they’ve kept him sedated. They believe they can bring him around as early as tomorrow, but they’ve asked us to give him another day after that.” He waved his fork for emphasis and added, “Give him a chance to gather his wits, so to speak.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill returned from lunch to be stopped by Parker at the front desk.

“Councilman Randall was by lookin’ for ya, Chief,” Parker stated.

“Any particular reason why?” Bill asked.

Parker shrugged and said, “Just wants you to call his office.”

Bill only nodded in understanding and closed himself away in his inner most office. He had his suspicions as to what Randall came calling for. He was tempted to not pick up the phone and merely ignore the man for awhile.

He realized he was only delaying the inevitable and dialed Randall’s office. Randall was busy, but his secretary took the message and assured Bill that the councilman would be stopping back by as soon as possible.

xxxxxxxxxx

There was a knock at Bill’s door and Parker poked his head in. “Councilman’s here, Chief. Ready for him?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Bill muttered coldly. “Let him in.”

The two men greeted politely, but stiffly.

Once the door was closed and they were left in privacy, Clark Randall didn’t hesitate to jump to the chase. “I’ve heard that Skinner is back. How is he?”

Bill had hoped that he’d be able to control his temper through this meeting, but Randall was making it difficult. Already, the man was touching on a delicate subject. Bill had his suspicions that Randall would have been content to see both of his boys return, not to rejoin the force, but to fill two matching holes in the ground.

Randall was not secretive about his quest for a complete overhaul of the police department, by any means necessary.

Bill’s smile was genuine as he suggested, “Perhaps you should ask him yourself.”

Randall read between the lines. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

Bill only eyed Randall with indifference. Randall was a hulk of a man and a former Army Ranger. With it all came a horrendous ego. He was incredibly easy to dislike. Unfortunately, he was a good actor and had the chiseled face to go with it. The masses were easily fooled by attractive people telling them what they wanted to hear. It had gotten Clark Randall very far in life.

Bill finally breathed deeply and said, “Surely, you’ve come to discuss more than my boy’s well being.” His choice of words was deliberate.

Bill’s loyalty to his officers was something that grated on Randall’s nerves. Randall came out swinging. “Actually, I have. The council is unhappy with the slow progress, and at times no progress, of this department.”

Bill sat back. He wasn’t going to waste any breath or effort at this private meeting. What happened here was of little consequence. Randall was only showing his cards, with nothing to gain in return.

“We have the murder of a young co-ed unsolved, with no apparent leads. The Bottoms is turning into a powder keg.” Randall leaned forward and added, “At our current rate, we’ll have almost half a dozen kids dead from overdoses before the end of the school year.” Randall added with venom, “We should put that in our tourism brochure.”

Bill only steepled his hands, waiting for Randall to finish. He knew there was more, much more.

“We’ve got a bandit running loose, terrorizing the public. We’ve had two kids suspended under zero tolerance for bringing guns to school. Drive-bys are up in the Bottoms and the latest victim’s a six year old child.”

Randall leaned back, giving Bill the signal that he was headed for the heart of the matter. “During all this, one of this town’s police officers was MIA and the other one was running amok in a city hundreds of miles from here. All of this with no word to the council as to what was going on.”

Bill only met his gaze and stated calmly, “My men can use their vacation time as they see fit.”

Randall sneered, “Vacation time. That’s the only reason the council has overlooked Williams’ little escapade. Most certainly, I have not, but the rest of the council tends to wear blinders. But I’ve managed to get some support as far as Skinner is concerned. They’re not happy with him.” Randall smirked wickedly. “Not that they ever have been.”

Bill had the urge to throw him out, but he waited patiently, letting the man toss out more rope to hang himself with.

Randall smoothed a slight crease in his tailored suit. “I haven’t been a life long resident like most around here, but I’ve been around long enough to hear the stories. Accusations of rape and murder.”

The chief remained calm.  _Here it comes._

“Rumors of an affair with another officer’s wife, of all people. Fights. High speed chases gone awry. Not to mention more time off for medical leaves than any other officer in the _history_ of this department.”

Bill only looked as if he was on the verge of yawning deeply.

“Gillespie, you can act nonchalant all you like, but somebody will have to answer for this. It’ll either be you or him.” Randall’s voice had taken on a savageness that finally brought Bill out of his chair, but it was with an eerily calm demeanor.

“Councilman Randall, if you think you’re the first man who’s come into this office and threatened me, you’re giving yourself far too much credit. Now get out. You’re stinking up my office and this window doesn’t open,” Bill stated, motioning to the small window over his shoulder, behind his desk.

Randall stood, trying to intimidate the older man with his bulk. “Your wife won’t be able to save you,  _old man_ .”

xxxxxxxxxx

“I cannot _stand_ that man,” Luann stated firmly as the front door closed behind Clark Randall. She’d passed him on the way in.

“He seemed pretty irate,” Dee added.

Parker had already stood up, eyeing the door to the chief’s private office through the partition glass. He knew his genuine concern was often mistaken for over zealous curiosity, but he was too soft hearted to ever let it stop him. Knowing he’d get growled at, he went in and knocked on the door marked  _private_ .

After getting no answer, he knocked again. With still no answer, he opened the door. “Chief?”

Bill looked up at him. “I’m getting too old for this, Parker.” His face was drawn and most of the color had seeped from it.

“You alright there, Chief?”

Bill waved his hand and said, “I’m fine. Fine. Just leave me be, Parker.”

“Yes, sir,” Parker muttered softly, closing the door.

Parker stood there for a few seconds in thought. He started to walk away. Soon his walk had turned to a trot as he grabbed his coat.

“Parker, where are you goin’?” Dee asked. She didn’t like the look on his face.

“Out.”

“Parker?” Luann called after him. When she received no response, she turned to look at Dee, who only shrugged.

Parker trotted down the station's front steps and looked both ways. A half block down, he saw a fancy sedan that had  _politician_ written all over it. Whoever was driving the sedan was stuck momentarily, waiting for passing traffic.

At a good pace, but not quite sprinting, Parker crossed the distance and found that he was right.

Busy with backing out into traffic, Randall was startled when someone rapped on his window.

Parker put on his best smile as he motioned for the councilman to put down his window.

Irritated, Randall asked, “What do you want?”

Parker played his jovial self for a moment. “Just wanted to have a friendly chat with ya is all.”

“It’s nice to know that the taxpayers are paying you to talk, Williams. I've never heard of you doing anything else around here.”

Parker only smiled and nodded, as if he were too stupid to get the insult. Meanwhile, he was calmly reaching into the car. With the shifter on the steering column, it was easy to place the car into park and shut off the engine.

Randall was too stupefied by Parker’s actions to do more than mutter, “What the hell do you think you’re....”

As cold as ice, Parker said, “Bubba’s not here, so I guess I’m stuck playing his part. You know, the half-crazed redneck.”

Randall only eyed him, surprised by this side of Williams. He’d never suspected the man had much of a spine at all.

Parker continued, “Maybe it’s just got something to do with a Marine’s deep down distaste for Army boys, but I don’t like you.” Parker looked around to see if they were still going unnoticed.

“Nam was a long time ago, but some things stay with you.” Parker knew how to sting an ego maniac like Randall. Parker had seen combat, Randall never had and never would. It left his image as the classic Army hero a bit lacking.

Randall finally asked, “Are you threatening me, Williams?”

Parker smiled and mocked, “Oh, no. No, sir, Mr. Councilman, sir.” His tone abruptly turned hard and cold, “Now why would I go and do that?” He stepped back on to the curb and walked away as if nothing had happened. Parker didn’t see the need to say anymore.

xxxxxxxxxx

“The twins at school?” Bubba asked, glancing around. The place was quiet and starting to look lived in.

“Heavens yes, I shipped them off first thing this morning.” Althea's tone grew serious, “I didn’t want them missing any more school.”

He only nodded in agreement.

“It’ll be a big change for them. I kept them in a private school back in Philadelphia.”

“Really,” Bubba said, a bit surprised. In a flash, the gap between the two of them had widened. Her children went to a private school. He could never afford that, but she could. Virgil could.

She explained, “Not one of those high priced, stuffy ones. Just a good quality Catholic school.”

He smiled broadly. “With nuns and everything?”

Laughter colored her response, “Yes, with nuns and everything.”

His smile turned devilish. “Ya know, I’ve always liked nuns.”

She shook her head, still grinning. “Bubba, you’re awful.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I know. Good Lord’s gonna’ strike me dead one of these days.”

“Just stay away from the nuns and I think you’ll be okay.” She laid out another blouse on the ironing board where she'd been working since he'd come in. “Did you turn into a goof while I was gone or were you always like this and I just didn’t notice?”

He plucked an apple off the island next to her and wiped it on his shirt. “Ya just didn’t notice.”

She heard him crunch into it as she replied skeptically, “I don’t know. I’m pretty observant.”

“Been a long time, ma’am," he warned between bites. "Maybe ya just don’t rememba’.”

“Well, if it’s been so long and you’re such a stranger, then why are you hanging around, eating my food?” she asked with feigned annoyance.

He grinned, thrusting the ravaged apple at her. “You can have it back.”

She put the hot iron aside. Instead of flipping the shirt, she grabbed his wrist and held his hand steady as she took a slow, seductive bite out of the apple he’d offered. She looked up to see what sort of reaction she'd gotten out of him, which was the whole reason she'd done it.

He was watching her with a slightly stunned expression. She let him go, flipped the blouse and went on as if nothing had happened. She soon heard him crunching into the apple again and looked up. He was watching her intently, just waiting for what she'd say or do next.

She asked coyly, “Not going to offer me any more of your apple?”

“No, ma’am. Keep that up and I might end up offerin’ ya somethin’ else.”

“Bubba!” she scolded, but the growing smile on her face gave her away as amused.

He shrugged and offered a sly smile. “You started it.”

She only gave him a sideways glance and kept ironing. Finally she said, “I hate ironing, but I have an interview. They had an opening at the clinic in Kennard. Well, it’s not really an interview, I have the job. It’s just a formality.”

Bubba could tell by the way she blurted it all out in one breathless jumble that she was about to burst with excitement. He was incredibly happy for her. “That’s real nice news, ma’am.”

Then he realized what clinic she was probably referring to and quickly asked for clarification. When she answered, he mulled it over. Excited or not, Bubba didn’t want to see her hurt. He added hesitantly, “Don’t know if I want ya workin’ there, ma’am. They’re always havin’ trouble.”

“Really?” she replied, oblivious to the clinic’s reputation.

“Gets a bit crazy at times. They had a couple shootings awhile back. A fella' came in and shot his ex-wife. Otha' one was just some druggie... had a gun... got spooked.”

“That’s horrible," she sighed softly. Having heard similar stories so many times, she wasn't surprised by them anymore, just saddened.

“Think they did a small security upgrade, but nothin’ near enough to prevent all the problems." His dark eyes pleaded as he said, "Just promise me you’ll take your safety into consideration, ma’am. Not just this place, but all of ‘em. The folks you work with... well, crazies come with the job.”

“I _do_ take that into consideration, especially after....” She looked up from her task and said sincerely, “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me, Coach.”

He only shrugged sheepishly and changed the subject. “I’ve got some pretty good news of my own."

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“I’ll be back to work in a few weeks.” His smile faded slightly as he noticed her expression. “Is there some sort of conspiracy in this town, cause you’ve got the same dour expression the chief had.”

Althea sighed, “If a doctor says you’re able to work, then who am I to argue.”

“You don’t think I’m fit,” Bubba stated as fact. He crossed his arms, ready for an argument.

Althea kept her attention on her task. She used working around the buttons on her shirt as a perfect excuse to avoid his eyes. “I have...  _doubts_ .”

“Well, don’t. Anyways, we’re talkin’ two weeks from now.”

The doubts she had wouldn’t be relieved by time alone. Althea looked at him, almost pleading with her eyes. “How are you holding up, Bubba? Emotionally?”

He groaned. “So,  _this_ is what’s botherin’ ya.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” she scolded gently.

“I’ll admit, things were a little strange for awhile, but I’m back on track. I sleep betta’ now... gained a couple pounds.”

She asked softly, “What about work?”

“What about it?”

“Think you can handle it?”

He uncrossed his arms. “Don’t know, ma’am. Just have to wait and see. That’s the way it works.”

“So, you’ve thought about it?” She put aside the iron. The topic was too important to worry about burning a shirt.

He met her gaze with his own. “Course I have. Ya always hear stories of folks spookin’... chokin’ on the job. Certainly hope I don’t, but I’m not foolish enough to think I can’t choke like anybody else.”

She replied, “Believe it or not, I’m glad to hear you say that. If you were dead certain it wouldn’t happen, I’d be really worried right now.”

“Well, I’m not dead certain on mucha’ anything anymore.” He took a deep breath. “I’m ready to walk away if I have to, ma’am. If I choke and get myself killed, that’s one thing... I won’t risk it bein’ someone else.”

“If it’s any reassurance, the more you say, the less I think you’ll have a problem. You seem to have a healthy grasp of the situation.”

He only looked sadly at the half eaten apple in his hand. He’d obviously lost his appetite.

Althea went to him and took the apple, turning it slowly while she gathered her thoughts. She finally asked, “Do you think about the shooting a lot?”

“Not so much anymore.”

She looked into his face and could tell that she’d pushed him to his limit. She was surprised she’d gotten as much out of him as she had. After giving his arm a reassuring rub, she walked away. She nibbled at the apple still in her hand. She wasn’t hungry, it was more of a nervous gesture.

After a long stretch of silence, he finally asked, “About this job interview of yours, when is it?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

He seemed lost in thought for awhile.

“Don't worry about it. It'll be fine,” she assured.

He chastised gently, “If you worry about me, then I get to worry about you all I want.”

She was amazed at how his strange logic always had a ring of truth to it.

The subject was still eating at him as he asked, “Eva' think about goin' back to teachin’? Counselin’ kids?” He felt foolish after the words had escaped him. The trip home had left him plenty of time to hear her life’s story since she’d left Sparta. Going back to college had been a major part of it, consuming most of her spare time. Nonetheless, her answer surprised him.

“Sure, it’s tempting to go back to that. I love working with the kids, but I want more than that. More challenge.” She moved on to ironing a skirt. “I feel like I’m accomplishing more now. The kids in the school systems, they just need someone to talk to. Someone to listen. Any good soul can do that. I’m more interested in the people who need professional help. That’s why I’ve avoided private practice. I prefer to get my hands dirty in the community clinics and the halfway houses. I don’t make nearly as much, but it’s more fulfilling.”

She looked up at him. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” He looked down and shined his boots on the back of his jeans, confessing, “It’s just that those are the folks who can be dangerous.”

Althea looked up to find him avoiding her gaze. She tried to lighten the mood, “Not all crazy people are dangerous... if they were, I wouldn’t have let you in.”

Bubba pretended to be insulted, “I’m not crazy... just eccentric.”

“That’s what all the loonies say.”

“I take offense to that, ma’am. I prefer to be called sanity challenged.”

She snickered. “If I ever go into private practice, that’s going on my sign out front.  _Treating the Sanity Challenged_ .”

He grinned broadly. “Can I get a discount?”

“For the sake of society, I’ll treat you for free.”

“That’s awful nice of ya there, ma’am.”

She didn’t immediately respond as she heard the front door slam. Soon it sounded like a rhinoceros was charging around in her living room. Shaking her head, she said, “Bubba, when people warn you not to have children... listen to them!”

He tried not to laugh at her frustration, but he failed. She didn’t have time to scold him, as the rhinoceros charged into the kitchen. After a full day of school, Althea never understood where all the energy came from.

She looked up to see Bubba just watching the twins in awe as they raced around and around. They were jabbering at him excitedly, but he was lost. Bubba only nodded when it seemed appropriate. Then they were gone as quickly as they’d arrived, having looted the refrigerator.

“Parenthood, Bubba. Isn’t it glorious!”

“Is that what you call that? I call that a whirlwind of destruction.”

“That’s why I don’t own anything breakable... or valuable... You know, I once thought about having the entire place sprayed down with foam, so they’d just bounce around like ping pong balls.”

He shifted his weight slowly after standing in one place too long, then said, “I think I’d better get outta’ here 'fore they come back.”

“Believe me, they’ll be back. Only their empty stomachs are keeping them at bay now. When they’re full, they’ll come looking for you,” she said ominously.

He chuckled, “Well, then I’d betta' escape while I can." He graced her with a single nod, like he had so many times before, as his way of saying goodbye. "Ma’am.”

“Bubba?”

Stopping in the doorway, he turned to her and she said, “Harriet invited us to her place for Thanksgiving. Virgil’s side of the family is insisting on us making the rounds, but I thought I might stop by later in the day. Are you going to be there?”

“Planned on it.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Lonnie stirred with a groan. He fumbled for the phone and grunted, “Jamison.”

“Sorry to wake ya, Detective, but we’ve had another one.”

Living in a small town had its perks. He rarely had to write anything down. The name of the gas station was all he needed.

He hung up and wandered around the house aimlessly for a bit. He was not a morning person, even if  _morning_ meant three o’clock in the a.m.

There was no hurry. The suspect would be long gone by the time he got there.

He finally settled at his kitchen table to eat what was left of a three day old pizza.

“Pizza,” someone squawked. “Pizza.”

“You can’t have any,” Lonnie grumbled back.

Something fluttered and he wasn’t alone at the table anymore. Caroline was currently the only woman in his life and she wanted some pizza. Oddly enough, the only woman in his life was a hold over from the last real woman in his life. His ex had decided that taking all of his compact discs was okay, because she was leaving Caroline behind.

Decisions like that, without ever asking for any input from him, had led to their breakup. At least one of her decisions had turned out in his favor, so few hadn't. Caroline actually made for good company after his last dog passed on. He thought it irresponsible, considering his schedule, to take on another dog. So, now it was just the two of them.

“I told you, no pizza,” he stated forcefully, pushing back the approaching Lovebird. An incredibly intelligent species, she usually responded well to commands.

She only pattered back across the table quickly, yelping, “Pizza. Pizza.” Just because she was smart didn't mean she couldn't be stubborn.

“No!” He pushed her again, gently.

She wasn’t deterred and charged ahead. She was too smart to allow the prospects of getting a treat to overpower her judgment. Somewhere in her little bird mind she trusted him entirely or she wouldn't have kept hopping, again and again, towards the cardboard box.

Lonnie finally rolled his eyes and sighed, “Alright. Alright. You can have the tidbits.” He walked away with the remaining piece of pizza, leaving the empty box open. As quickly as she’d charged, she abruptly stopped.

Her behavior caught Lonnie’s eye. “What?”

Caroline fluffed her feathers. He knew this was how she pouted.

He grabbed some orange juice out of the fridge and went back to his spot at the table. “Happy now?”

The little bird squawked and quickly hopped into the open box. He listened to her click and shuffle around until she’d devoured every crumb.

“Didn’t want to eat alone, huh?”

He didn’t receive an answer. Caroline only hopped around the table, ignoring him, looking for more crumbs.

“Typical woman. Buy you dinner and afterwards, I get the cold shoulder.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Lonnie felt a wave of hope as he entered to find one of the rookies dusting for prints. The last robbery scene had come up with nothing useful.

Spotting Luke, Lonnie quickly motioned to the rookie and asked, “There a reason for this?”

“No gloves.”

Lonnie didn’t respond. He silently took pleasure in that small bit of good fortune.

“Startin’ to get that feelin’ of deja vu, Detective?” Luke asked, without a hint of humor. His sweet boy-next-door features were shadowed with fatigue.

“Luke, when we catch him, I'll try to make sure you get the honors.” Lonnie had noticed the interest the younger officer had taken in the case and appreciated the help. Little things really did add up. The moral support alone was priceless.

The smile that played across Luke’s face was just a bit wicked. “I’d like that, Detective. I’d like that very much.” Getting to slap on the cuffs and read the Miranda didn’t sound all that appealing to the general public, but to a cop who had spent too much time cleaning up after one lone piece of scum, it seemed like a sweet prospect.

Luke came back from his own thoughts as Lonnie asked, “Anything else?”

“Not really. Footage is really bad. This place only has the one camera and the tape is about worn out.” He motioned to the lone camera, near the ceiling, facing the cash register.

Lonnie looked from the camera back to Luke. “You’ve seen it already?”

Luke understood Lonnie’s surprise. Most surveillance tapes were kept under lock and key to prevent assailants from running off with them, or unscrupulous employees tampering with them to cover pilfering. He answered, “Yeah, happens the store manager was working.”

Lonnie only nodded in understanding. The manager would have access that other employees didn't. Finally he asked, “Any injuries?”

“No, sir. Not for lack of trying.”

Lonnie gave him a questioning look.

“They scuffled at the counter. She got away from him and crawled under the counter there.” Luke pointed to a small hole, only large enough to accommodate a small framed person. It looked like the remnants of a remodeling job never completed.

Lonnie took out a small flashlight and scanned the hole, then probed the light into where it led. It was a cramped space that just made him want to catch the dirtbag even more. She had to have been terrified. Desperate.

Luke kept talking, “Said he went crazy, trying to get at her. Thought for sure he was going to shoot her.”

Lonnie stood back up and dusted off his left knee. “Any reason why he didn’t? Something happen?”

Luke shrugged. “No idea. She just said he seemed to hesitate for a second, then he left her here under the counter. She heard him making a racket. Turned out to be him trying to bust down the door back there.” Luke motioned to a door that had obviously taken a beating. “Probably wanted to get at the video like before. He finally gave up and took off.”

Lonnie ambled slowly around the small business. It wasn’t a modern convenience store, just a hold over from when gas stations really did just sell gas, cigarettes and a few other odds and ends. There wasn’t much to see.

“Why does he keep coming back here?” Lonnie thought aloud.

Luke asked, “You mean Sparta?”

Lonnie quickly nodded. “Why keep hitting in the same area?”

“Lives here?”

Lonnie shook his head. “Maybe. Probably does.” He scanned the neighborhood from the front door. “But why hasn’t he branched out more? It’s as if he’s obsessed, or just not too smart.”

“Or maybe wanting to get caught?”

Lonnie raised his brow and shrugged. “Could explain his sudden odd behavior.” Rubbing his forehead in frustration, he added, “But if that’s the case, then why’s he suddenly so obsessed with the surveillance tapes? We have him on tape already.”

Luke asked, “Lonnie, you want my honest opinion?”

Lonnie looked at the younger man with an expression that said it all. Luke didn’t need to ask a question like that. He always wanted Luke's opinion.

Lonnie had been given an opportunity or two, over the years, to reach for something bigger, but it never seemed all that much better. He feared moving on to a department where he'd find himself surrounded by fools. Sparta was a small unsophisticated town and maybe the cops weren't all that sophisticated either, but they all had common sense, hearts in the right place and good solid spines for the work. He could always count on them. He might not always agree with them and their hunches might not always be right, he knew his certainly weren't right all the time, but there were never any stupid ideas.

“I think this guy’s flat out crazy. He’s Mr. Polite Criminal one minute, Raging Wacko the next. You don't get two totally different personalities like this in one sane person.”

The detective had been scanning the room, listening to Luke. He abruptly turned to Luke with a knowing smirk. “Maybe Mr. Polite Criminal and Raging Wacko are so different because they  _are_ different.” Lonnie’s mind was racing. “You saw the tape. Is it him? Is it definitely him?” Lonnie added, showing a hint of impatience rare to him, “I want to see it.”

“Well, it’s still back here.” Once they were in the back room with the equipment, Luke surveyed it. “Let’s see if I can get this....” A short bit of rewinding later, Lonnie was watching the whole incident unfold on a cheap TV screen.

Frustrated, Lonnie admitted, “I can’t tell. Can you tell?”

Luke shrugged. “It  _could_ be our guy.” He gave the tiny television a gentle swat, but it didn’t help. There was more snow than image and the source wasn't certain. All the equipment was over the hill.

Lonnie wasn’t giving up hope just yet. “We can get a better look at it down at the station, then send it off to the pros.” If they were fortunate, the image would be cleaned up considerably.

xxxxxxxxxx

Tracy Boggs recognized his voice immediately. With a sly grin, she began to walk down the corridor. Turning the corner, she spotted him at the nurse’s station. She straightened her scrubs, wishing she were more presentable. The days of attractive uniforms had come and gone, but she was tall, blonde and pretty, giving her an advantage no matter what she wore.

“Hello, Bubba. What brings you here? Nothing serious, I hope,” Tracy purred.

Bubba made an attempt to hide his annoyance as he greeted her, “Miss Boggs.” He grit his teeth as he realized how cold and formal his greeting had been. His attempt to be nonchalant was failing. He couldn’t take it back, so he plunged ahead saying, “The chief just wanted me to check up on somebody.”

Tracy merely nodded and smiled sweetly.

“Well, I’d betta' get goin’,” Bubba muttered quickly. He sidestepped to get around the tall blonde.

He took a ragged breath as she called after him, “We’re having Thanksgiving dinner at mom and dad’s again this year. Would you like to come?”

Bubba looked back at her and spoke firmly, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Considering the conversation closed, he turned and began to walk away.

“Bubba." She trotted to catch up to him. “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you,” she continued, flashing her sweet smile again as she got up beside him. Too close beside him, giving away what they had once been.

He stopped cold, turned and looked her in the eye. He softly said, “That’s the problem, Tracy. We've done enough talkin'.”

He watched with a mixture of satisfaction and regret, as a red tint came over her cheeks. “You don’t have to be rude,” she sniped.

“I tried to walk away. Not my fault ya folla’d.” He felt a hollowness inside himself. The real him always retreated in her presence, leaving a cold void that said and did things that weren't like him at all.

“You worthless son of a....” A snarl flickered on her lips. Hate burned in her eyes, as quick as someone could strike a match. The viper that hid under her sweet exterior started to show its fangs.

He deliberately moved closer, to tower over her. “You left me. Rememba’ that.” His voice grew even harsher, “Then I took ya back and that still didn’t suit ya. I’m thinkin’ I ain’t the worthless party here.”

Tracy crossed her arms and took a defiant stance. The attitude and the glare summed up who she really was. A bossy, self-centered bitch. “Sounds like somebody has some issues. Feeling rejected? I can see why. I _did_ reject you. Over and over and over. What can I say, I just kept finding someone _better_.”

“I figua’ that you’re the one feelin’ rejected. Lost your latest boy toy and now you’re just sniffin’ 'round for a quick replacement.” He leaned close and whispered, “Heaven forbid your damn bed be empty once and awhile. You said it yourself... ova' and ova' and ova'.”

He received a great deal of satisfaction cutting her to the bone. It showed in his dark eyes. They begged her to say something else, which would give him a chance to say something worse. His cocky smirk suggested he had something else waiting and something else after that. He could go on all day if need be.

She wasn’t used to him fighting back so viciously and her face grew even redder. When she regained enough composure to respond, she did so violently, with a fist square in his eye.

Bubba was too busy blinking away stars to watch her turn and storm away. He only caught a glimpse of her shaking her injured hand as she turned a corner down the corridor.

“Now if that wasn’t a rip snorter!” Bubba heard someone say. He turned to see an older man in pajamas and a robe. He was trailing an array of equipment behind his walker. “You was doin’ real good till you forgot to dodge there at the end.”

Bubba couldn’t help but crack a smile. With a hand over his injured eye, he responded, “Guess I did forget to dodge, huh.”

“Sure did! Don’t worry though, boy. We’ve all had those types in our lives.” He kept shuffling. “Was married to one for almost twenty god awful years. One day, I finally couldn’t stand the sight of her. Camel in one hand and one of those sleazy tabloids in the other.” The old man shook his head sadly. “Twenty years wasted.”

Having managed to shuffle past Bubba, he looked back to say, “Too bad some women don’t come with warnin’ labels.”

Bubba only smiled as he watched the old man shuffle his way down the corridor. Finally he remembered what he’d come to the hospital for and started checking room numbers. Finding the right one, he hesitated before knocking on the already open door. He took a moment to gently touch his tender eye one last time. He was not new to black eyes and he could feel a real shiner coming on. It would swell, then darken and then everyone would want to know how he got it.  _Damn, I hate that woman_ .

xxxxxxxxxx

Althea had a cordless phone pinned in the crook of her shoulder. “Everything’s going pretty well, so far. Knock on wood...."

The one sided conversation continued, "They broke some dishes, but everything else arrived alright... No, but I don’t have much worth stealing... Well, you know how they are, Sarah makes friends faster than he does... well, yes....”

While picking up around her desk, she admitted, “Mom, I don’t want to talk about that....”

She plopped into her favorite chair with a perplexed expression. Her mother wanted to continue talking about it and did. Meanwhile, Althea felt warmth rising to her face. “Is it that obvious... Did dad notice?”

Once again, there was a pause as she listened. Emotions flickered across her pretty face. She smoothed her hair nervously. Studied her long legs as she propped them up. Wiggled her toes. The march of emotions ended with her brow coming together to form a little knot of deep thought over her nose.

The knot came undone and vanished as Althea said sadly, “I’d like to... I don’t want to lose him as a friend. I might scare him away if he’s not interested... Yes, I know that a friendship is a good base to build a relationship on. Are you forgetting that I’m a therapist?”

“I just need time. A lot has happened... I think he’s interested, but...."

Her mother broke in and Althea sat quietly, listening again.

"Well, there’s the problem. He’s so sweet, you can’t tell when he’s just being his usual self and when he’s flirting." She added with a chuckle, "That's why women chase him all the time."

She laughed even harder as her mother mentioned a few other reasons women might be chasing him. “Mom, you’re a married woman. Shame on you!”

xxxxxxxxxx

Parker used paperwork as an excuse to get into the chief’s private office. The door was open, so he didn’t consider it too prying. “These need signin’, Chief,” Parker spoke cheerily, as he hustled up to the chief’s desk.

“I’m sure they’re very pressing, Parker,” Bill stated coolly, signing everything with amazing speed.

Bill looked up for only a moment as Parker whistled and said, “Jeez, Bubba, who hit ya?”

Bill could hear Bubba shifting uneasily in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Don’t wanna’ talk about it, Parka’,” Bubba replied gruffly.

Parker’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Well, I can see how somebody could get the best of ya and all, still bein’ a lil’ laid up. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

Bill laid his pen aside and made himself comfortable to enjoy the show. He was delighted to see that it would be a slow burn. Those were more fun.

“Parka’, nobody got the best of me,” Bubba growled.

“Well, then why ain’t ya tellin’ us about it. Why didn’t ya drag ‘em in?”

Bubba sat up straighter in his chair, thinking he’d won the argument. “Parka’, have ya forgotten that I’m currently restricted from doin’ my job? I can’t just drag people in.”

Bill interjected to feed the fire, “You still have the authority to make an arrest. You’re only off-duty, in a sense.”

Parker’s grin only grew. “And then we could have come in and done the rest for you, which is collect and process the evil doers of Sparta.” He watched as Bubba seethed. Parker couldn’t restrain himself. He said with pride, “Bubba, that’s what we’re here for... to protect helpless citizens... like you.”

Parker had snatched up his paperwork and began to flee as Bubba came out of his chair. “I’ll show you helpless!”

Bill slapped his desk once and bellowed, “Now! Settle yourself!” He lowered his voice a few octaves. “Don’t want you rupturin’ anything.”

Bubba groaned with annoyance as he flopped back into his chair. “Gettin’ tired of this, Chief.”

“Well, maybe it’ll teach you to start dodging bullets instead of taking them. Now enlighten me. What happened?”

“I ain’t discussin’ it.”

“I sent you down to the hospital for a reason, not to just have you come back and sit in that chair with a black eye.”

Bubba’s dour expression lifted. “Oh, yeah. That.” He shifted in his chair again. “Reed still doesn’t rememba’ a thing.”

Bill sighed, “That’s unfortunate. I hoped he’d give us something to crack this case.”

“So, what’s the total up to now?” Bubba asked.

“Fifteen.”

“Could he have more range?”

Bill spread his hands to say that they weren’t entirely certain. “I’m afraid that this is going to escalate until someone is killed. It could have, if he’d hit Reed any harder.”

“We’ll catch him, Chief,” Bubba assured.

Bill was obviously mulling something over in his mind.  _There may not be a_ we _._

Bubba finally asked, “Somethin’ wrong, Chief?”

Bill waved him off. “No, not particularly.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I know you’re eager to get your teeth into this, but don’t.”

Bubba only groaned.  _Not this again._

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. You’ll stay out of this until your leave is up. Am I understood?”

Bubba rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Chief, I already told ya, I’ll do as I’m instructed. Alright?”

Bill frowned. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now get out of here and get something on that eye. If it swells up any more, you’ll be a cyclops... and close that door!” he barked.

Once alone in his office, Bill tossed things aside on his desk a little rougher than necessary. He felt guilty about what he’d just done. Bubba wasn’t the cause of his problems and for once, Bubba seemed willing to behave himself. That thought alone caused him even more anxiety. It was subtle, but Bubba just wasn’t himself.

Bill massaged his temple as he recalled his latest run in with the city council, Randall in particular. He blamed himself. He’d been molding the boy into his replacement and that terrified the city council. If they were going to try to usurp him, they’d have to oust Bubba as well or they’d accomplish nothing.

Bill was playing his cards as best he could. If he could keep Bubba off duty under the guise of being on medical leave, he might, just might, keep them at bay until things had settled. The council would lose steam. If Bubba came back to work now, they’d use any tiny infraction to go for the jugular. They wanted a suspension already, but they couldn’t pull it off. He and Harriet were a united front against them and Bubba’s record spoke for itself. Like him or not, the council had to deal with him carefully.

The chief's plan would have been more likely to succeed if it included Dr. Robb going along with him, keeping Bubba off the job, but that wouldn’t happen. Bill knew better than to ask his old friend to lie for him. Robb had his own job to do. If Bubba was ready to come back to work, then that was that.

Meanwhile, Bill carried the burden of keeping secrets. It wasn't something he was used to doing. The moment Bubba found out the council’s intentions, he’d fly off the handle and just dig himself in deeper.

There was a real possibility that the chief would have to toss the city council an offering. That offering being his own retirement. He only hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He was ready to retire, but on his terms, not theirs.

xxxxxxxxxx

Harriet peeked at the meat thermometer and gave the giant foil covered bird another hour to cook. “Bill, you just had to bring in the world’s biggest turkey, didn’t you.”

Bill cocked his head to peer down through his bifocals. “You know that come this evening, there will be nothing left of that poor bird.” He turned his newspaper to the next page.

Harriet heard him issue the slightest groan and knew there was something unpleasant in the paper. She peered over her husband's shoulder. Bold letters over the weekly editorial section screamed,  _Local Police Sparta’s Biggest Turkey This Year!_

Harriet angrily said, “John, your title is just as tacky as you are.”

“Now Harriet, let the man speak. He always manages to make himself out to be a fool and saves us the trouble of doing it for him.”

Harriet went to work using the electric can opener. “Yes, to anyone who can think for themselves, he’s an idiot, but there are a lot of people who take others’ opinions as gospel.”

Bill folded his paper. He laid it on the kitchen table and set his reading glasses atop it. He went to his wife and putting his arms around her, kissed her on the cheek. “The opinions of those sort never hold any sway, as soon as someone stops telling them what to think, they forget the matter and move on.”

Harriet couldn’t help but giggle as she tried to get the cranberry sauce out of the can. She never ate the stuff, but she always enjoyed watching it slide out of the can. “You know, I’ve never understood cranberry sauce in a can.”

Bill admitted, “Neither have I, my dear.” He reached out and gave the bowl a nudge. “A northern thing, perhaps.” Harriet snorted laughter as the tower of gel jiggled back and forth.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill’s prediction was correct. By late in the afternoon, the turkey was no more. The Gillespies' annual Thanksgiving feast had been a huge success. There were no burnt pies and the turkey had been perfectly moist. Harriet had scored compliments all around.

Bill Gillespie sat in his overstuffed chair, finishing the paper he’d been skimming earlier in the day. He’d spent most of his life with no family at all, now, though his family wasn’t of the traditional kind, he was more than happy and content with it.

Harriet brought him some coffee and nibbed to see what he was reading. “Back to that again?”

“Sadly, yes.” Bill didn’t bother to lower the paper, only bellowed, “Anyone read John Carter’s article in today’s paper?”

Bill received his answer in groans going up around the room.

“The man’s a horse’s behind.” Luann had managed to sum it up well for all of them.

“My favorite part was where he hinted that we were getting a kick back from the drug deals on Callister Street,” Parker mumbled.

“At least he was just hintin’ at that Parka’. They wrote all that trash about me like it was the truth,” Bubba stated coolly. Carter had shredded Bubba’s reputation, mixing truth and lies artfully to protect himself from a libel suit.

Bubba sat silently in thought after that, giving his now clean shaven face a rub now and then. He'd just gotten used to the beard and actually missed it, feeling a little like he could hide behind it and be someone else for a little while.

The conversation continued around the room, but he didn't bother to keep track. While his thoughts were elsewhere, he felt someone touch his shoulder. A mix of greeting and reassurance in the way the hand skimmed feather light across him told him it was definitely a woman. Looking up, he saw Althea smiling at him.

“This seat taken?” she asked in a whisper, referring to the edge of the recliner he occupied.

“No, not at all. Glad to see ya made it,” he replied. He hadn’t spotted her before now. He knew she'd be showing up late, due to other plans.

The hack in the paper had worked Bubba up into a defiant mood. His subconscious was at work, refusing to let her sit aloof and uncomfortable at the edge of the chair, just because someone might disapprove. He took her hand and steered her to sit closer than she had intended.

She was slender, but she still spilled beyond the armrest and onto his thigh. Not even enough to be noticed, unless someone was looking. Unfortunately, for the two of them, someone always seemed to be looking. She felt that she was among friends, but friends were often the harshest of critics.

The pair made small talk quietly, as the rest of  the room bustled loudly, but she found that she couldn't look at him the way that she liked to. Eye contact was important to her in general. She considered it good manners to give someone her full attention, but it was just a smidge more important when it was a particular set of brown eyes she wanted to look into.

She turned sideways, careful to keep herself in a chaste pose. She kept her knees together and bent beneath her long skirt, so her long legs wouldn't wander beyond his thigh.

Meanwhile, her eyes did wander. Styles had changed, even in Sparta, but most of the men present still wore jeans and a nice shirt to the small holiday gathering. Bubba was no different. She found him easy on the eyes as usual, except for one thing. She had noticed it before, but now curiosity was getting the better of her.

She asked, “What on earth happened to your eye?”

He had, _I was hoping you wouldn't notice_ , written all over his face as he replied, “Nothin’, just riled somebody up is all.”

“Sure it wasn’t the other way around?” she teased. “You’re a pretty likable guy.”

“Tell Carter that,” Bubba sighed.

“Don’t let Carter get to you,” Althea murmured, despite finding it hard to take her own advice.

“Tryin’ not to, but it’s rough. Thinkin’ people see me that way.”

“Well, they don’t,” Althea assured him. “Carter probably doesn’t even believe it. It’s just a ploy to get readers’ attention is all. He has to sell papers if he wants to make a paycheck.”

Bubba put his arms around her, oblivious to his own actions and the attention the two were starting to attract. No one could hear their conversation, but it was obviously intense.

“Don’t know, ma’am. Got the feelin' he’s up to somethin’.”

She admitted, “Well, if he is, I don’t know what or why.”

She looked up to catch half a dozen sets of eyes on her. Suddenly self conscious, she tried to ignore them. She was grateful when Bubba started to speak again, “This ain’t just about me, neitha’. He didn’t come out and say it, but he was referrin’ to you too. I know he was.”

Althea said angrily, “Let him say what he wants. If people are stupid enough to believe it, well, let them.”

Unbeknownst to them both, Bill had been watching them from the corner of his eye. The conversation fired up by Carter’s tasteless editorial was winding down. When Bill thought no one would notice, he got up and made his way across the living room.

“I need to talk to you, Bubba,” was all Bill said.

Bubba and Althea shared a perplexed glance. She stood, even as Bubba muttered, “Sure, Chief.” He followed the older man out onto the patio where they could be alone.

When the chief didn't immediately speak, Bubba asked, “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I fear that there’s too many things wrong to even properly cover them all, but one is at the top of my list at the moment.” Bill looked back through the patio doors as if whatever it was remained inside. Bill finally turned back to face the open expanse of his back yard. He leaned heavily on the wood railing at the edge of his patio. “You need to tread carefully for the time being.”

Exasperated Bubba asked, “I’m not even workin’, Chief. How can I tread any lighta’ than that?”

Bill hated himself for what he was about to say, but he didn’t see any alternative. “I’m not one to dictate to others how they should live their private lives, but if you value your job and your reputation, I suggest you tread carefully there as well.”

Bubba wasn’t sure what Gillespie was referring to. He was only left with the impression that the chief wasn’t pleased with some part of his private life. Bubba starred out into the dusk, confused.

Bill had hoped that he could persuade the boy, without bringing him fully into the fray. He had been wrong, sensing Bubba shutting him out. “I’m fully responsible for keeping you out of the loop. I thought it best. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Bubba could hear the strain creeping into Bill’s voice. Bubba commented, “You said before that you was worried about somethin’... ‘bout me comin’ back to work. This have anything to do with it? Whatever  _this_ is? Cause I ain’t even sure what the hell we’re talkin’ about.” His frustration was growing more intense.

Gillespie seemed to be fighting an inner battle, until he confessed, “Yes, it’s one and the same.” He paused for a moment, then added, “They want your head and I’m afraid they might just get it.”

“Who?”

“The city council, at the insistence of Clark Randall.”

“Randall? I’ve got no problem with Randall.”

Bill replied, “I don’t believe it’s you he really wants... or me. He wants control of the department.”

Bubba sighed. Moving forward, he mimicked the way his mentor gripped the patio’s railing. He worked his hands as if he could twist the timbers out of shape. “Just start from the beginnin’,” Bubba grunted.

Bill sensed the boy’s temper simmering under the surface, which he knew would happen. It was what he had hoped to avoid.

Bubba only glared into the night, listening without speaking a word. When Bill was finished, Bubba asked, “And why didn’t you tell me this from the start?”

Bill looked the younger man up and down. Bubba was tense and seething. “Think about what you have the urge to do, then think about the consequences. You’d have only dug us all in deeper. Believe me when I say this isn’t just about you. If they manage to oust either of us, the department will suffer. Sparta will suffer. This town is in no condition to be handed over to some politician’s lapdog... from some big city somewhere.” Bill stopped to collect himself. “The last thing I want to see is some runny nosed child come down from Jackson and get one of you killed.”

Relaxing, Bubba admitted, “Alright, I’m not the coolest headed fella’ around, but ya still coulda’ told me.” He turned, crossed his arms and leaned back against the wood railing. He watched as the festivities seemed to be revving back up inside. “Any of them know about this?”

Bill inhaled sharply and said, “Harriet, of course. Lonnie. I have my suspicions that Parker knows.”

Bubba only raised an eyebrow. If that were true, why hadn’t Parker said anything? Rubbing his neck wearily, Bubba asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

Bill admitted, “I honestly don’t have one. The council can be swayed with results, but we can’t solve these problematic cases by sheer will. All I can suggest is that we  _both_ tread carefully. I’m hoping the fight will go out of the other members of the council. They won’t sit idling their engines just for Randall’s benefit. They’ll cool off and move on. The mayor seems neutral so far and I’m not hearing much from the community. If we can keep the council and the press at bay, we should come through.”

Bubba asked, “And what exactly do you mean by treadin’ carefully, Chief?”

“I won’t sugar coat it, boy. You need to stay away from Althea. That’s what they want to pounce on more than anything else. Carter’s editorial is proof. They’re moving to sway the public against you.” Bill shook his head sadly. “I hate to ask this of you. This town has no right to dictate to either of us how we live our lives, as long as we remain law abiding citizens... and true to our pledge to serve and protect, but they don’t see it that way. In our current situation, we have no leverage to shut them up.”

Bubba’s tone expressed his bafflement, “Chief, we’re just friends. I don’t....”

“It didn’t look that way to me a moment ago.” Bill shook his head and added, “It doesn’t look that way to everyone else.”

Realizing what Bill was referring to, Bubba groaned, “We’ve always been close. You know that.”

“That’s what worries me,” Bill replied coldly. He regretted saying it immediately. After so many years of being in charge and speaking as he pleased, he sometimes forgot that even he had to watch his words at times.

Bubba stood up straight and asked firmly, “What  _exactly_ are you hintin’ at there, Chief?”

Bill only clenched his jaw. Now he really wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know how to admit that he’d never been one hundred percent certain that the rumors weren’t true. Doubted them, yes. Greatly doubted them, but he’d never filed them away as an impossibility.

The younger man fought fiercely to keep his voice steady, “Do you believe what they say? That we were...?” Bubba couldn’t even finish the question. It made him feel dirty, but worse, it made him feel betrayed. He felt lied to all these years, knowing now what the chief had really been thinking behind his back.

Bubba only received silence for an answer and he added, drawling thickly, “Easy yes or no ansa’. Ya eitha’ think it or ya don’t.”

Gillespie rarely had qualms about speaking his mind, but this time, he desperately tried to choose his words carefully. Unfortunately, words wouldn’t come to him. He’d never planned to have this conversation.

Bubba only grew tenser, struggling with what to do next. He couldn’t decide whether to rage at the man before him or just storm away. He did a little of both.

“Unless ya say otha’wise, I’m gonna’ take that as a yes. Let me tell you somethin’, ya wanna’ think that about me, go right ahead, but don’t you dare think that way ‘bout her. If ya was anybody else I’d....” He didn’t finish the rest.

Not thinking, Bubba made the mistake of heading back inside, almost wrenching the patio door off its track. He took a deep breath to give himself control to close it without breaking it. He was just grateful to have that room to himself for a minute. He furiously mussed his hair and finally strode out to make his way through the crowd, trying to act like nothing had happened.

Bill barked at him to come back, but he was ignored.


	3. Chapter 3

Bill heard the patio door slide open, then close. He didn't need to look to know who it was. He said sadly, “Harriet, my dear, this old fool has made a grave misjudgment."

His wife approached him, heels clicking. She seemed out of place, so close to nature, wearing dress slacks and a loose-knit sweater. When the couple retreated to Bill's cabin in the woods, she sometimes let her hair down, but not today.

She inquired, “What happened?”

He was an aging sentinel, standing at the railing of the deck, keeping watch over the woods. “I should have trusted him.”

“About... Oh,” she groaned. The topic had come up between them already and was fresh in her mind.

She tried to comfort him. “Well, then we're both guilty. I thought it could be true too. Not likely, but....”

“I should have known better. I know the boy better than you do.” He finally looked at his wife, the weight of the guilt he felt etched into his craggy features. “I’ve been a cop too long. A bitter, untrusting old man too long.”

She seldom saw him worked up like this and at his age, it was worrisome. “Bill, you’re going to make yourself sick. Just calm down. Sit down for awhile.”

She managed to lead him to a patio chair. She tried to soothe him, “He won’t stay angry with you. You’ve just had a falling out is all. An apology will set everything right. Don’t worry about it.”

She prattled on as she watched him rub his chest. “Just take a deep breath. People have spats all the time.”

When Bill finally seemed to relax a little, she asked, “Feeling better?”

He inhaled deeply and snorted, “No.” Anxiously shifting in the chair, he added, “I’m fine. I’m fine. Just... feeling like a fool.”

She sat down next to him, patting his hand. “It’ll blow over.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Althea took notice of Bubba’s hasty departure. She weaved her way through the crowd to the front door and followed him out, knowing full well that her actions were being watched and promptly analyzed. That was life and it wasn't going to keep her from living hers.

“Hey, wait up.” She bounded down the few front steps after him. Rushing out into the dark, leaving so much activity behind, made her feel utterly alone with him.

Countless vehicles were parked haphazardly in Bill's front yard. A single security light made them look cold and alien among the trees. Stars winked in the clear night sky overhead, easy to see away from the light pollution.

The air had the crisp bite of coming winter, as if all the warmth of the day had just floated up among the stars. Feeling so alone and impervious to judgment, she let the feeling of just wanting, without fear of the consequences, wash over her.

When Bubba turned to face her, Althea stopped dead in her tracks. Despite the poor light, she had his gloomy expression read in an instant. Bubba wasn't in the same carefree state of mind that she was. He was anything but.

“You’d rather be alone,” she said softly.

Reading agreement in his expression, she offered an understanding smile. No hard feelings.

The fact she respected his space when other women would push was why he liked her so damn much. Women tried to control him or change him, she just let him be. It always had the effect that other women were striving for, it pulled him right in.

As she turned to leave him in peace, he stopped her, grasping her arm gently. When she turned, questioning him with a glance, he said, “We need to talk.”

She gave him her full attention, knowing by his tone that what ever was coming wasn't likely to be pleasant.

“Anybody been botherin’ you 'bout us, ma’am?”

It was an obscure question out of left field. She only tilted her head, perplexed.

He explained, “Anybody suggestin’ we was... more than friends... before?”

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, “Not this again. Who is it this time?”

Bubba didn’t want to say who it was. No matter how angry he was, his loyalty to Bill was still intact and strong. Strangely enough, he didn’t want Althea thinking badly of the chief. “Ratha' not say,” he drawled thickly.

She frowned. “You’d rather not say?”

He let go of her arm. “I’m gonna’ get outta’ here. Not too sure we should be talkin’ 'bout this afta' all.”

He looked around for spectators, despite knowing they were alone. He felt smashed between glass slides under a microscope. At least the little life forms in petri dishes didn't know they were being watched. They could go about their business, doing what germs and fungus do.

He grumbled, “I’m still a lil’ too hot to think straight.”

Reaching out to touch him, she asked, “Bubba, what happened?”

“Nothin’," he assured. Quickly stepping just out of range, he provided proof that it was indeed something. "Just don’t worry 'bout it, I’ll take care of it.”

“Sounds like something to me. Usually one doesn’t have to take care of _nothing_ ,” she argued, following him to his truck. She didn’t let him close the door. “If you decide it’s _not_ nothing, call me.”

He opened the door to his truck and studied her face in the weak light pouring out of the cab. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her and now he felt helpless in doing so. She’d find out sooner or later. Find out that some people, maybe everyone, actually believed the rumors. He’d have sold his soul to cleanse her reputation.

Bubba wasn’t sure how he’d restore things to order. For now, he’d do the only thing he could, which was stay away from her.  _At least until things cool off_ , he thought.

xxxxxxxxxx

“You look tired,” Harriet said softly.

Althea didn't just look tired, she _was_ tired. Angry and frustrated too, wondering who had just stirred up so much trouble for her. It would be awhile before the silt settled back to the bottom. Meanwhile, the low visibility would bring things with Bubba to a standstill.

“I feel a couple of centuries old,” Althea replied. Eager to leave, she didn't pause as she pawed through a pile of coats. Late to arrive, it seemed reasonable to expect that hers would be on top, but the garment continued to allude her somehow.

Harriet nodded and when the conversation stopped there, she decided to dive in. “I noticed you ducked out for awhile with a certain someone.”

Althea grew tense.  _A certain someone_ ?

Harriet continued, “And I think I know why.” She finished off the drink in her hand and put the glass aside. “Please don’t be angry with Bill. He didn’t want it to end this way. He feels awful.”

Althea didn’t know how to respond. The night was getting stranger and stranger.

Trying to explain her husband’s situation, Harriet admitted, “It’s not that he believed it whole heartedly, he just didn’t know for certain that it  _wasn’t_ true... and with the problems we're having with the city council...”

Althea’s eyes grew wide as she caught on. She was left speechless.

“Bubba took off before Bill had a chance to explain himself. To apologize.”

Fighting to keep her voice down, Althea spat, “Explain himself? What is there to explain? That Bubba would stab Virgil in the back? That I’m a whore?” Althea’s words stunned even her. There was more venom and rage in them than she’d expected, proof she was harboring deeper feelings than she'd ever realized.

“We didn’t think about it that way,” Harriet admitted.

“We? So you _both_ believe this trash?”

Harriet only stood with a shamed expression on her face.

“Where is he?” Althea barked.

“Out on the patio,” Harriet admitted softly, almost fearfully.

xxxxxxxxxx

“It's your party and you’re hiding out here?” Althea asked coolly, closing the patio door behind her. The night was only getting colder and she immediately wished that she had found her coat.

“ _Hiding_ is the appropriate word,” Bill replied. He looked exposed and frail, sitting out in the open air.

“Well, you’re bad at hiding, because I’ve found you,” she growled.

He could tell by her tone that she had heard, making him feel even lower. A moment earlier, he would have sworn that couldn't possibly happen.

“My dear Althea, my deepest apologies cannot even begin to make up for this,” Bill admitted with desperation.

Althea knew in an instant that he was sincerely sorry. It snuffed out her anger, leaving her more baffled by events than anything else. She sat down without saying a word.

After an awkward silence hung over the patio for several minutes, she finally managed to express herself, “I just don’t understand why you would think that. Yes, I’m divorced. Obviously, my marriage went wrong somewhere, but this....” Unable to finish, she only shook her head.

Bill Gillespie only looked more ashamed. It was an expression she had never seen on his face before.

She continued, though she didn't want to see his expression deepen any further, “And this is Bubba we’re talking about. You know how he is. He would have never hurt Virgil like that.”

_Or let me hurt Virgil like that_ , she thought. Bubba would have never willingly played a part in her disgracing herself. He would have protected her from herself as quickly as he would have protected her from anyone else intending to do her harm.

Bill confessed, “I never intended to bring this up.”

Althea tried to imagine what that moment had been like for Bubba. Hearing it from Harriet had been hard for her, but the experience must have been ten fold harder for him. She said, “Intending to talk about it or not, it’s out there. You had better talk to him and soon.”

She couldn’t think of anything else rational to say and stood to leave. She had plenty to talk about, but she was in no condition to put it together and produce something intelligible.

Bill inhaled deeply and admitted, “I know you’re both hurt and angry. You have every right to be. I just don’t want you leaving here thinking that something you’ve done, some fault in your character, or in his, made it believable. Far from it.”

“Then why? It makes no sense!” She desperately wanted to understand.

“Because love can make the best people do the most foolish things imaginable.” He leaned forward on the table, hoping that if she walked away remembering any part of what he’d said, that it would be this, “I _never_ trust anyone when it comes to love. I’ve been a cop too long. The best people will lie and deceive and even kill for love. I gave you two more benefit of the doubt than I would have given anyone else.”

In a mocking tone, she asked, “Then why are you so sure that we’re innocent now?”

He smiled weakly, shattering the haggard expression on his face. “The way that boy defended your honor made me reconsider... just this once.”

She would have been lying if she claimed that Bubba's loyalty didn't get to her. It did every time. Now was no different. All of her sharp emotions had been smothered by something softer and warmer. She suddenly didn't care what Bill or anyone else thought.

“He's already left.” She sighed wearily, “I'll give him a call... try to talk to him.”

“Please do. This late in my life, the last thing I want is to have him estranged from me. Or you, for that matter.”

She shook her head, dismissing the idea that it would ever come to that. “As many mistakes as I’ve made over the years, I’m the last person who should be judging anyone else for making one. Just give us some time.”

A moment later, she was heading inside, leaving Bill to his own thoughts. She couldn't resist the urge to do a little self-analysis on the way. _Just give us some time._

No matter how innocent, she shared a history with Bubba that she didn't share with anyone else. Shared a special kind of relationship. The little town and its people had, in its own way, bound them together.

xxxxxxxxxx

The phone rang. Bubba was in no hurry to pick it up, but still managed to answer before the machine did. He recognized her voice immediately, as she said, “I thought I was going to get that damn machine again.”

“Ya almost did,” Bubba admitted.

“Then you would have been in big trouble,” she scolded.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he chuckled. Taking the cordless phone with him, he fed the dog.

Aware of what Bubba was doing, hearing the distinct clatter of dry food going into a dish, she insisted, “Give Knothead a treat for me."

Bubba moved to obey, opening the fridge. He spoke more to himself than to her as he scanned bare shelves. “Well, let’s see what we got here... nah, that ain’t safe for nobody’s consumption.”

She laughed at him.

“Hey, we got some expired turkey here," he announced in triumph.

“Perfect!”

Not much left in the pack, Bubba gave it all to the eager dog. “Here ya go, dog... no, don’t go lovin’ up to me. Save that for Pat when ya see her.”

Pat wasn't fooled. “You spoil that dog, don’t deny it.”

“Yeah, I do. Only cause he’s the only one who loves me ‘round here.”

“Well, I love you.”

“That doesn’t count. You live too far away.” There had been a time when that fact stung him every time he had to face it, but he'd grown a thick callus to it over time. Some things just weren't meant to be.

She countered, “And how many times have I told you to move your butt out here?”

"Oh... a couple hundred maybe. ‘Course, ya have Mike tryin’ to talk me into it now.”

“That’s my boy,” she proudly stated. Just as she'd once claimed, she could handle playing big sister and often did. She sometimes even stepped out of those shoes and did some mothering too, but not too much. She had known where to draw the line with a teenage boy used to taking care of himself. Plus, he was a good kid. He didn't need much guidance.

“How is he?” Bubba went on to ask, painfully aware that Mike had reached adulthood. The boy's life was hurtling by just as fast as his own these days, maybe faster. Any number of things could have changed since the last time they had chatted.

“He's wonderful. He’s so happy with the new baby.” She sounded a bit smitten with the new baby herself.

“Don’t go gettin’ too attached, you’ll be wantin’ anotha’ one yourself.”

“Oh no, the one I had was enough,” she insisted.

He could hear every sleepless night and spit-up stain in her assertion that there would be no more, but teased anyway, "Yeah and I’ve heard that one a million times. A gal says that and the next thing ya know....”

Bubba could picture her making a face, as she said, “It’s been five years, don’t jinx me.” After a pause, she added, “Enough small talk, how are you?”

“Good.”

“Really?" she almost mocked.

“Really,” he said firmly. “I’m good.”

She sensed real frustration in his voice. Always his biggest supporter, she caved in, “Getting a lot of this, huh?”

“Yeah,” he groaned wearily.

“I won’t bother you... for now....”

“But ya want to,” he sighed. Always too eager to please the women in his life, he knew what was going to happen next. He was going to open up to her, because she wanted him to. He'd go over all the gruesome details, though he'd prefer not to.

But it didn't mean he couldn't get something out of it. “How 'bout we make a lil’ deal. You do somethin’ for me and I’ll let ya botha’ me all ya want.”

The similarity to another recent deal he'd made was not lost on him. Maybe he was getting wiser with age or maybe he just had too many women pestering him.

xxxxxxxxxx

Luann noticed immediately that Bubba was in a dour mood when he walked through the door.

“Chief in, Luann?” he asked.

“He’s back in the lockup. Should be up in a minute.”

“What’s he doin’ back there?”

She beamed as she said, “He’s talking to our convenience store bandit. Well, more likely, his lawyer.”

Her statement caught Bubba totally off guard. “We got him? Really?”

“What? We couldn’t catch him without you?” she teased.

He grinned broadly. “I’ll be damned. About time we had some good news ‘round here.”

“We studied the last tape here, but didn’t come up with much, so we sent it out. They sent us back a great facial shot. You must have missed it in this morning’s paper. No sooner than the paper went out, we started getting calls. Tracked him down twenty minutes later.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a picture. Seein’ that nobody’s recognized him till now.”

She replied, “Wasn’t wearing the glasses. Made a huge difference.”

“Any trouble bringin’ him in?”

“You should ask Luke to tell you the story. The guy was so hung over, he was in no condition to do much of anything.”

Bubba just couldn’t get over how easy it seemed. Too easy. “Are we sure it’s him? Absolutely sure?” He added apologetically, “I don’t mean to be a killjoy, but....”

Understanding his leeriness, Luann replied, “I didn’t believe it either until we got his last victim in here. I.D.’ed him flat out. No hesitation. You’ll understand why when you see him.”

“If he had some noticeable characteristic, why didn’t somebody mention it?”

Luann sighed, unable to find the words to explain herself. “It’s his eyes. Just something....” She seemed on the verge of shuddering. “Odd about them.”

Lonnie strolled up to them just in time to ask, “Are you telling him about our good fortune, Luann?”

“Yes, sir, Detective,” Luann answered brightly.

“Well, congratulations there, Detective. How does it feel to catch your man?” Bubba asked.

Lonnie breathed deeply. “It feels good, Bubba. There for awhile I wondered why I took this job. This makes it worthwhile.” He was still beaming with pride when Luke called for him from down the corridor. “Lonnie, we’re getting ready to do the other lineup.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Bubba had made himself comfortable in Bill and Lonnie’s shared office. Stretched out and reading a fishing magazine, he looked up to see the chief walk in with a sour expression.

“I don’t like that expression on a man who should be ecstatic,” Bubba admitted.

“I wish I didn’t have it. Our second lineup was a bust.”

“Couldn’t tell for sure?”

“No. Says for certain that he wasn’t in the lineup.”

At that moment Lonnie and Luke strode into the office, chatting quickly between themselves. Bubba was just glad that Lonnie didn’t seem crushed by the news. One positive I.D. was enough, but a negative I.D. wasn’t a good thing.

Lonnie finally broke off his conversation with Luke. “Figure you’ve heard, Bubba.”

“Yeah, Lonnie, I have,” Bubba replied sadly.

“Luke and I had been throwing around an idea since the last robbery. I was just hoping we were wrong. Sure make things simpler. Looks like we won’t get that lucky.”

Bill was anxiously waiting for an explanation, so Luke added, “We thought this could be two separate individuals. The first wave of robberies committed by one and these last two violent robberies committed by another. We weren’t positive at first. The two do look a lot alike in the footage.”

Lonnie added, “After getting a couple more witnesses in here, I think we’ll be able to confirm it.”

“Aren’t ya worried this might turn around and bite ya?” Bubba asked.

Lonnie shook his head, “I’ve got this guy dead to rights. He’s on video. I’ve got a dependable witness. He’s very recognizable in the flesh. We’re not even done analyzing the prints we lifted, so we might have prints as well. We’ve got him. I don’t doubt it at all.” Sighing, he admitted, “It’s finding the second guy that will be the problem. We’re no closer there than before.”

Bill finally added from behind his desk, “If the man we’re holding now is responsible for the two robberies we’ve had recently, our other bandit will be showing himself again very soon. He’s overdue.”

“Very overdue,” Lonnie admitted with concern.

“Well, I guess I should get back to work then,” Luke said. Giving Lonnie a strong pat on the shoulder, Luke added, “Good job, Detective. One less bad guy out there.”

“I didn’t do much. This guy just presented himself on a platter,” Lonnie stated, disheartened.

xxxxxxxxxx

It took them awhile, but Bill and Bubba managed to assure Lonnie that he did have a great deal of credit coming to him. Lonnie finally accepted his praise and left the office to go back to other tasks.

“Hope he doesn’t let this get him down, Chief,” Bubba stated.

“It’s something he’s going to have to get used to. Some cases are easy, some are maddening, but I think this is the first time his entire inbox has been one maddening nightmare.” Bill abruptly changed the subject. “What brings you here? This bandit of ours?”

“No, Chief. Just wanted to talk to ya.”

“About?”

“I’ve been doin’ a little snoopin’ around.”

Bill only groaned.  _So much for treading lightly._

“Now, just hear me out, Chief. Randall must be handin’ out a lot of favors for this little coup of his. He’s got to be gettin’ more out of it than leavin’ the two of us unemployed. Figua'd I’d try to find out what that somethin’ is.”

“I’d thought of that. It led nowhere.”

“I got nothin’ betta’ to do....”

“And there is a reason _why_ you have nothing better to do. I gave you specific instructions to take it easy.” He looked Bubba over. “By the looks of you, I’d say you haven’t heeded those instructions.”

“Pickin’ up a phone and callin’ around is _not_ gonna’ cause me to drop dead,” the younger man growled angrily.

Bill didn’t think he’d ever heard so much attitude come out of Bubba’s mouth. “Would you like to come back from leave to a nice long suspension?” Bill threatened. The older man regretted being so quick to lose his temper, worrying that this was more about their falling out than the subject at hand.

Bubba had lost all patience. “If I don’t settle this now, it ain’t gonna’ be a suspension I come back to. It’ll be no job at all.”

Bill didn’t respond.

“Yeah, it’s worse than ya thought. Come next session, you eitha’ agree to fire me or you’re out.”

Bill shook his head. “No, if that were the case, Harriet would have given us some warning.”

“She doesn’t know about it.”

Sighing, Bill admitted, “I find that doubtful.”

“It’s bein’ discussed behind her back.”

“And this could be one of countless rumors.” Bill motioned, as if he could wave the subject away like an annoying fly.

“Councilman Nader’s wife says it’s true. He told her all about it.”

Exasperated, Bill asked, “How do you come by all this information?”

“Small town, Chief. Can’t keep nothin’ secret in a small town for long. Hopin’ that holds true for ol’ Mr. Randall too.” With that, he stood up, still slower than usual. “With me or against me, Chief, I'm gonna find out what he's up to.”

Bubba moved to leave when Bill ordered, “Come with me.” The older man stood and retreated to his private office. Bubba wasn’t quick to follow. “I want your fanny in this chair, boy,” Bill said calmly.

Bubba joined him, but reluctantly. He closed the door before sitting down. He knew what was coming.

Bill sat down wearily. “Before you go, I want to put some things to rest. I owe you an apology.”

“No, sir. You don’t,” Bubba muttered distantly.

“Why not?”

Shifting nervously in his chair, Bubba admitted, “Ms. Tibbs came by." He glanced to Bill and they both shared the same thought. Neither of them would ever really get used to calling her anything else.

He continued, "She told me what happened.” He looked at his clasped hands. “I’ve seen the same things you have, Chief. I can unda'stand where you’re comin’ from. I can even agree with ya. People surprise me all the time.”

Bubba looked up and admitted sadly, “And I’m no angel.”

“Neither am I," Bill admitted, "And you may agree with me, but that doesn't make the accusation any less painful.”

Bubba just sat quietly, with a strained expression.

Bill spoke softly, “I  _am_ sorry, son. I wish there was more I could do, but I can’t erase past mistakes and words are all I have.”

Bubba sighed, “That’s good ‘nough for me, Chief.”

Bill eyed him cautiously, not sure he believed him.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill came into the office the next day, mulling over what Bubba had told him. His mood was certainly not brightened by the news that greeted him.

“Had another robbery overnight, Chief,” Parker stated.

“Our man?”

“Looks that way. Lonnie’s here, if you want all the details.”

Bill only nodded tiredly before proceeding to his office.

Lonnie looked up from his case files to see Bill walk in. The detective asked, “You heard?”

“Yes and I’d rather be _spared_ the details.”

Noting tension in the older man, Lonnie asked, “Something wrong?”

Bill had reached his desk. He turned and looked at the door he'd left open. It seemed too far away for him at the moment. He told Lonnie, “Close the door.”

Lonnie closed it quickly, without question. He remained standing, prepared for bad news.

“The city council meets in a little over two weeks from now. When they do, I fear the trouble will begin.”

Lonnie grimaced.

“It’s the final assault. I suspect that they’ll _suggest_ that I cut Bubba loose. When I don’t and the next session has rolled around, I’ll be handed my walking papers."

Bill watched the frustration play across Lonnie’s face. “You’ve been doing a superb job. I don’t want you feeling any guilt about this. I also don’t want you pushing hard for our benefit either. Just keep the strong, steady pace.” Bill admitted, “The pendulum is already in motion for Bubba and I. Nothing you do now will stop it.”

“Why the sudden change? We had time,” Lonnie almost growled.

“It would appear that Harriet was misled. Used as a pawn to have us believing what they wanted us to believe. All the while, the council was marching forward behind closed doors.”

“There’s got to be something we can do.”

“Yes, but it’ll be an uphill battle.”

Lonnie finally returned to his desk, where he seemed to deflate into his chair.

“Don’t worry yourself. The fight isn’t out of us yet. Harriet is raging mad, to be expected. She’s going to a friend of hers to have a few things released in the press. The public may be curious as to why the council thinks keeping certain members in the dark is appropriate. I plan on speaking to some of the council members personally. Perhaps I can talk reason to a few of them. If the town falls into chaos with the departure of one or both of us, the voters won’t be happy. Hopefully, they’ll see that as a potential outcome.”

“What about Randall? He’s our main problem.”

Bill smiled ever so slightly. “I heard an interesting rumor the other day that our Lt. Williams had a few choice words with him. I pity any man who has things to hide making an enemy of Parker. Between Parker and Bubba, I do believe he’ll be made very uncomfortable.”

“I thought you wanted Bubba out of all this?”

“That was when I thought we could wait them out. Their minds are made up as far as he’s concerned. I’ve decided to let our pit bull loose.”

Lonnie smiled at the reference. “He wasn’t happy about that editorial.”

“That’s because you do _not_ soil the reputation of one Althea Peterson. I pity Carter. If he’s smart, he’ll hide himself under a rather large rock.”

“Randall should join him, considering he put Carter up to it.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Mayor Henry Bonifas opened his front door just as the doorbell rang a second time. He was mildly surprised to find a casually dressed Councilman Randall on his front porch. “Evening, Randall,” Henry said, moving back to allow Clark in.

“Mayor,” Clark acknowledged. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” He didn’t really care. He was merely playing along at the game of politeness.

“No, not at all. Come in. All I can offer is coffee, but it’s fresh.”

“No, I planned on making this quick.”

The mayor turned, realizing he’d been foolish to think that Clark Randall would show up on his doorstep for anything other than his own personal agenda. “What do you want, Randall?” His tone no longer friendly.

Randall walked around casually, taking in the decor. “I need to know where you stand on the police department.”

“We’ve discussed this Randall. This is your crusade. Not mine.”

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned about the direction this town is headed in?”

The mayor smirked and replied, “I live on the _good_ side of town. The voters live on the _good_ side of town. That’s all that matters.  

Clark parted the curtains at a window that faced towards the Bottoms. The blight was blocks away and out of view, but Bonifas knew what he was thinking about. Clark said, “It’s like a cancer. It’s only a matter of time before it spreads.”

Bonifas turned away and took up his pack of cigarettes. Talk like this made him nervous. Deep down, he knew he was a lousy mayor. As he lit up, he thought,  _And Randall, you’re one lousy councilman._

Randall watched to make sure Bonifas was distracted. He quickly flipped the two locks on the window. With that, he stepped away from the window and the curtains fell closed again.

xxxxxxxxxx

Luke pulled up on the scene of a Lexus wrapped around a tree. He approached the car, only to find no one inside. He then scanned the vicinity for anyone who might have been ejected. It didn’t seem likely that someone had been thrown from the car, but he’d seen far stranger things at accident scenes.

Finding nothing of interest, Luke called in the plate number. He was surprised when it came back as registered to Sparta’s mayor, Henry Bonifas. Luke pondered the situation.

“Luann,” Luke radioed to the station. “Give the mayor a call at home.”

It was only a few moments before Luann was radioing back to him. “He says it’s stolen, Luke.”

“Yeah, I thought he’d say that.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“Luann, in the mayor’s haste to yell profanities at me, he failed to tell me why he saw fit to wake me at three in the morning,” Bill seethed. 

“Someone stole and wrecked his Lexus, Chief. Right out of his garage.”

“Why could that man not manage to tell me that somewhere along the line?” Bill snorted, more to himself.

“Anything you want us to do, Chief? Beyond the usual?”

“No, Luann. I trust you to deal with it. Quite honestly, I feared that it was something far more pressing.”

“Goodnight, Chief.”

Bill hung up the phone and tried to make himself comfortable again.

“Well, what’s the news?” Harriet asked.

“Nothing, my dear. Just another politician thinking his problems bring the world crashing to a halt.”

“Not another robbery?” she asked, slightly perplexed.

“No,” Bill admitted. “Someone took the mayor’s car for a joy ride and crashed it.”

“When it rains, it pours,” Harriet sighed, turning over to go back to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill Gillespie parked in his reserved space as he did every workday. He tipped his hat with more enthusiasm to those he passed and mounted the front steps a little quicker than usual. It was a lovely winter morning, though many were grumbling that it was Monday.

He called Lonnie and Parker both into his office, but left the door open. “Have we heard from the mayor yet this morning?”

Parker shook his head no. “But he gave Covey a pretty good ear full yesterday.”

Lonnie sat leisurely at his desk. “No developments with that case either, Chief. Lots of prints, but they’ve all belonged to the mayor or his wife... so far.”

“The garage?” Bill asked.

“Nothing there either. The mayor swears the garage was closed and locked, but there was no sign of forced entry. House was locked up tight too.”

Bill finally eased himself behind his desk and admitted, “Well, this is certainly very bad timing, but there’s only so much we can do.”

Bubba walked in the door and looked around, studying each face for a moment. “Lot of somber expressions in here.”

“Either you’re meddling in official business and being a nuisance or you’re late, which is it?” Bill asked in good humor.

“Com’on, Chief, I’m always a nuisance... now ya just got to pay me for it,” Bubba replied.

Lonnie beat Parker to the first question. “Any restrictions?”

“I ain’t allowed to do much. Be stuck at my desk for awhile.”

Parker added excitedly, “You can do my job and I’ll go on patrol. It’ll all work out.”

He beamed at the thought of leaving his cramped work space.

“Bubba and I are the ones who will be handing out duty assignments around here,” Bill said curtly.

While Parker hung his head, Bubba gave the chief a pleading glance. Bill finally nodded.

“Well, what ya waitin’ 'round for, Parka’. Criminals are runnin’ amok out there and here ya sit. Get goin’ already,” Bubba ordered.

It was one of those rare moments when Parker kept his mouth shut, but it didn’t last. He hustled out of the office to collect his coat and hat. Worried that he was leaving Bubba to a huge mess, he hustled right back in again. “There’s new extension numbers at the Sheriff’s Department, but they’re on the list. If Mrs. Armstrong calls about her cat bein’ stuck in a tree, just hang up, she doesn’t have a cat and she’s been off her pills all week. If Douglas....”

Trying to reassure his agitated friend, Bubba said, “Parka’, I can handle it. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Parka’. Go on,” Bubba said, shooing him out.

Parker didn’t stay to argue.

Lonnie shook his head as Parker raced out the door. “You haven’t forgotten our talk, have you, Chief?”

“No, I haven’t. I would just like things to calm down a little first.”

Bubba looked between them. “Did I miss somethin’?”

Bill looked around for possible eavesdroppers, but still whispered, “Dee’s moving up.”

Bubba’s face brightened, so Bill quickly added, “Keep it under your hat.”

“Dee passed, huh.” It didn’t surprise Bubba in the least.

“With flying colors,” Lonnie softly added. “Guess I really will be chief of detectives now, with another detective to boss around.”

Bubba’s expression quickly darkened. “But will the city agree to pay for three full-time detectives? Parka’ can be a handful, but he’ll pass in no time. He’s sharp and he’s already got a lot of training under his belt.”

Bubba had considered it a shame when Virgil left and Lonnie and Parker were left in limbo for his position. After losing out, Parker had seemed to give up on the idea of advancing on to a detective’s position. When Lonnie was established and another position became available, Dee stepped in, only after Parker refused to budge.

Bubba was still thinking about the past as the chief explained, “Dee’s thinking about moving to another department. Her and that beau of hers are getting pretty serious. He wants to keep his job in Alabama.”

“Be a shame to see her go,” Lonnie admitted and the others nodded in agreement.

Bill finally asked, “Now tell us, Bubba, how long is this restricted duty going to last?”

“Should be a week,” Bubba replied.

“Should?”

“Depends on what Robb thinks when I go back. I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

“I take it you’ll see him again next Monday?”

Bubba only nodded as Bill started doing a mental calculation.  _That will put him back on patrol two days before the council meeting. Well, hopefully he won’t get into_ too _much trouble in two days._

xxxxxxxxxx

When Bill Gillespie arrived home, he found Harriet pulling something from the oven. “Smells delicious. Am I to assume that I can’t partake of any?”

Smiling knowingly, she said, “Why do you ask that?”

“By that smile, I’m sure you know why. If it smells good, it tastes good. If it tastes good, I’m not allowed to have any.”

“Well, this once you can. A _little_ indulgence never hurt anyone. Consider it a treat for staying on your diet.” She checked under the foil and steam rolled out. She gave him a sideways glance. “Though I did hear about the pie.”

“Should have known that Bubba would rat me out,” Bill lightheartedly replied.

“So Bubba was in on it too. I’ll have to have a little chat with that boy.”

He took a peek under the foil for himself, then retreated out of the way as Harriet moved in to add some final touches. He said, "I’ll just keep my mouth shut from here on out. Otherwise, I'm going to have everyone in trouble.”

She returned the dish to the oven sans the foil cover and confessed, “I just felt like baking.”

Recognizing the hint that she needed to decompress, he asked, “Tensions growing at work?”

“Are they ever! Bonifas almost took my head off.”

Bill scowled. He was well over the hill, but his first impulse was the same now as it would have been twenty or forty years earlier. He wanted to put himself between his wife and anyone looking to do her harm, even if it was just a verbal assault.

Harriet added, “Someone’s little joyride has cost us dearly, Bill. Bonifas is turning on us.”

“That does not surprise me.”

“Awfully bad timing,” she sighed.

“Or very good timing,” Bill reasoned as he watched his wife reset the oven timer. Baking eased Harriet's tensions and eating the spoils of her tension eased his. He was eager to dig in. Things were getting too strange, even for him.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Althea rang the doorbell and went back to hugging the warm container she was carrying. It was a cold day. She passed the time waiting for an answer by surveying the place.

Parker had given her directions, with assurances she wouldn’t miss it. He’d been right. A newer two story that felt both incredibly modern and old west ranch sat on several open acres. Large trees hung over a chalk white drive that eased right up to a rambling porch.

_It’s gorgeous_ , she thought and quickly wondered if Bubba had bought the house at Tracy’s insistence. It was far out of the reasonable price range for a cop’s salary. It was also far too large for a single man or even a couple. It was meant for a large family.

_Did they try and fail? Was that why she left him? Or maybe they disagreed on the matter._

Althea knew little about his marriage to Tracy Boggs and she didn't feel comfortable asking just yet. She knew that the marriage had ended very badly. More reason to be leery of asking.

Continuing to study the property, she wondered if it explained the old truck in the driveway.  _Maybe he got the house and she got everything else. This place has to be expensive. He’s probably rubbing pennies together to pay the mortgage. Why does he keep it?_

She swayed on her feet nervously, thinking it was taking too long.  _I should_ _have called first._

She reconsidered, as Bubba greeted her only half dressed and apparently fresh out of the shower. She fought back a wicked smile, pleased with her luck, but not wanting him to know.

Eyeing him as discreetly as she could, she failed to move fast enough to suit him. He latched onto her arm and yanked her gently inside. “It’s cold out there. Catch your death,” he insisted.

Still entranced by her good fortune, she thought nothing of using her sleeve to wipe away water droplets that he had missed along the hollow of his collar bone. She then leaned in close to him and breathed deeply. She teased, “You smell  _good."_

It was an addiction. She got a thrill from finding the boundary line she was expected to obey and sneaking a toe across it. Bubba's reactions were often priceless and he never failed to play along, just a little.

Even now, he accepted her teasing. The way he smiled sheepishly, he knew he was being flirted with. It was just part of a dance that the two sexes engaged in all the time and was harmless as long as common sense prevailed. Everyone liked to feel desired. Liked to think they could still turn a few heads.

Her undressing the rest of him with her eyes hadn't slipped by him either. Feeling pretty good about himself, which was the whole point of the game, he looked to the container she still held and asked, “What ya got there?”

“I hope you like it,” she said, suddenly self conscious. She popped off the lid for his inspection.

Taking the hint, he looked. “How much food ya got in there?” he teased.

“Hopefully, enough to put meat back on your bones.”

His eyes drifted up to meet hers. “Ya didn’t have to go to no trouble, ma’am.”

“Well, don’t think it was all just for you." She fought to shake the weight of those eyes. She couldn't entirely and it manifested in shaky words. "You have to share... And it’s an excuse to get that tour I’ve been waiting for.”

She could already tell that the interior was as impressive as the exterior. She looked around excitedly. “Bubba, I just love this place. Are there any more like it?”

Amused by her childlike enthusiasm, he was glad he could truthfully nod and say, “Yeah, a few." He added, "Don’t know if any are for sale though.”

He stepped back and confessed, “I'm not exactly dressed for dinna'.”

She flashed a smile. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He knew she had definitely noticed and a little flicker of guilt tinged his words, “Sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t be runnin’ ‘round half clad. It's bad manna's.”

Althea slipped her hand into the tupperware container and came out with a morsel. Before popping it into her mouth, she said, “I’m not complaining.”

Bubba gladly retreated to find a shirt. He was suddenly uncomfortable in her presence. He had taken too many liberties. Crossed lines he shouldn't have. There was a fine line between harmless flirtation and the real thing.

Unknown to him, his feeling of unease was well founded. Althea was deliberately laying siege to his long standing boundary lines. Like so many times before, she had inched over a divide and he'd unconsciously moved it back to keep things okay between the two of them.

She kept moving gradually forward, towards him, never giving him reason to think he needed to defend his perimeter. While she marched ahead, he kept retreating, blaming himself. It was never her. It was always him to blame.

He kept surrendering. It was his fault she had been looking at him like that. His fault that she kept finding openings to say suggestive things. She was just having some harmless fun. He reasoned that when she had finally found someone new, everything would go back to the way it used to be.

He was oblivious to the fact that as far as she was concerned, he was that someone new.

Dressed, he moved to rejoin her, but his steps slowed. Being so glad to see her, he had forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to be seeing her at all.  _You can’t keep avoiding her all the time. You’re gonna’ have to tell her._ He grit his teeth as he realized how difficult that was going to be. She would never see it his way.  _She’s so damn stubborn._

Bubba walked in to find the kitchen table already set.

“Hope you don’t mind. I just rummaged around,” Althea said.

“That’s alright. I ain’t got much to hide.”

“What a shame,” she teased as he pulled out her chair for her.

Her comment put him strangely at ease. He could make yet another excuse for her. “You’re just in a mood today, ain’t ya.”

She picked up her fork. “A mood?”

“Cold weatha' makes some folks restless... Happens in animals too. Makes 'em wild.

“You think I’m a bit wild?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, pulling out his own chair.

“Really?” she asked. Her excitement showed. She still had a vast array of things to learn about him, including what he thought of her.

“Well, maybe not wild, more like... fiery,” Bubba admitted, keeping his head down. He wasn’t sure how she’d take his observations.

“Fiery?” she said, pondering the word. She quickly asked, “Do you like fire in a woman, Bubba?”

“Sure, I do. Just has to be the right kind.”

“There are different kinds?”

“A few.”

“Am I fiery in a good way or a bad way?”

“Good,” he admitted before taking a bite. “Course, now that I think about it. Maybe fiery is always good. Maybe there’s just fiery and _somethin’ else_.”

“Perhaps _bitch_ is the term you’re looking for,” Althea laughed.

Bubba looked up from his plate. A knowing smile crept across his face. “You said that, not me.”

Althea refolded her napkin and asked, “I’ve been accused of being too opinionated... and pushy... and mouthy. Would you agree with that?”

“No... No, you’re just passionate, ma’am. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“About what?”

He gave her a questioning look.

“What am I passionate about?” she asked.

“Well... everything,” he admitted. He seemed to think it was a good thing.

His reply came as a sweet compliment to her. It gave her the courage to ask, “Do you have this weekend off?”

“Yeah, I do. Figua'd I’d slip into a nice coma for a couple days.” If the words didn't convey his exhaustion, the expression on his face did.

“Think you can slip back out of it long enough to go out? Just the two of us. See a movie or something."

He was hesitant, already having come to a decision about their future activities together. There would be none. Things needed to cool off. Maybe he needed to cool off.

She misread his expression. “If not a movie, we can do something else....”

“Ma’am, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” he admitted.

A cold chill crept into her chest. “If you’ve got a date or something....” _A girlfriend._

“No, isn’t that. I just... I’ve been thinkin’ it ova’ some more and I think the chief was right. Maybe we should keep our distance.” He stressed, “For the time bein’.”

While smoothing things over between the two men on Thanksgiving, she’d heard about the council’s intentions. She’d spent a good deal of that evening talking Bubba out of following Bill’s advice.  _Or I thought I did_ , she thought in frustration.

She picked at her food as Bubba admitted, “I know we talked 'bout this."

He knew she had walked away that night with her mind set, but so had he. Her arguments hadn’t deterred him. “There’s no good reason why we can’t just wait for this to blow ova’.”

Althea stopped pushing her food around on her plate and shot him a perturbed glare. “And there’s no good reason for us to be having this conversation either. Our friendship is no one's business.”

His brown eyes pleaded. “I know you’re fightin’ this thing so hard cause it seems unfair. You’re right, it is unfair, but some battles of principle ain’t worth fightin’.”

“Yes... but some _are_ worth fighting”

He sat quietly, unable to understand why she insisted on arguing the point so fiercely.

“Bubba, I know you’re worried about your job... and the chief’s job. If I thought for one second that this was a real risk, I’d stay away, but it won’t make a bit of difference,” she insisted.

“Yes, it will.” He didn’t actually believe that for a moment, especially now that the council seemed determined to act. Bubba’s only concern was for her reputation, but he wasn’t about to let her know that.

“They’ll think what they want to think. The facts don’t matter. What we do doesn’t matter,” she snipped.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m puttin’ my foot down on this one.”

“Oh, really,” she stated sharply.

“Yeah, really.”

What little he'd eaten had turned to a hard lump in his stomach. He'd had too many arguments at that very table with Tracy to want to have yet one more with someone else, especially Althea. He was too fond of her to go down that road, like he had done with Tracy.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Jamison, am I gonna’ have to find you a girl, just so you have a reason to stay home?” Bubba asked.

Lonnie looked up, slightly startled. After he registered what Bubba had said, he replied, “Think that goes for both of us. What brings you in so early?"

“Got some stuff I want to look into before the chief gets here.”

Raising an eyebrow, Lonnie waited for more details.

Bubba dropped onto the davenport like he was already exhausted, though it was five o’clock in the morning. “I heard back from Pat. Took her awhile to weasel her way into some of Randall’s records, but she got it done. Now the rest is up to me.”

“Anything helpful?”

Bubba shrugged. “Not yet, but it’s given me a few places to start.”

“Why don’t you want the chief finding out?”

“Jamison, you’ve seen how he’s been.” Bubba only gave Lonnie a look to convey the rest.

Lonnie nodded in understanding. “If you pass your final physical today, maybe he’ll ease up.”

“Back on patrol or not, I’m still gonna’ get the feeble treatment.”

“He’s just looking out for you.”

“I know.” It killed him to admit it, but this time, he'd gotten himself in so deep that he actually did need looking after.

Lonnie smiled. “Think the chief's getting a little soft in his old age. Worries more.” He quickly stressed, “But don’t go sayin’ I told you that.”

Bubba chuckled, “I’d be in just as much trouble repeatin’ it as you sayin’ it, so you’re safe.” Standing to leave, Bubba asked, “Anything new on your cases?”

“Nothing that seems useful.” Lonnie rubbed his brow wearily. “I’m wondering if our bandit has packed up and left town.”

“That’s right, he hasn’t hit anything since... nearly the beginnin’ of the month.”

“December 2nd, to be precise.”

“Nearly two weeks,” Bubba muttered.

“And there was a two week lapse before that one. I’ve just got a bad feeling that he’s either up to something bigger or he’s about to split, never to be seen again.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Harriet walked into Bill’s office as she often did, only this time, she had Althea in tow. “I’ve kidnapped her and insisted that she have lunch with us,” Harriet informed Bill.

“Kidnapping’s against the law, you know,” Bill replied, putting away some paperwork.

Harriet latched onto his arm. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think I married a cop.”

Althea protested, “You two really don’t need me tagging along.”

“I insist that we find a fourth wheel to go with our third wheel,” Harriet told Bill.

Bill was in a wonderful mood and played along. “Easy enough, I’ll just ask who’s hungry.”

It turned out to be far more difficult than expected. No one had gone to lunch yet.

The front door opened and Parker pounced on his chance. “There’s your man, Chief. Take him.”

Bubba sagged in the doorway, wondering what he’d come back to.

Everyone loudly agreed, except Althea. After the recent turn of events, the last thing she wanted was to be close to him. Bubba, on the other hand, still didn’t have a clue what he’d been drafted for.

“Come on, my boy. We’re going out,” Bill insisted.

“But I was tryin’ real hard to come _back in_ ,” Bubba stressed.

“Not anymore. Out. We’re hungry. You’re holding us up.”

As Bill prodded him out the door, Bubba looked to Parker. Bubba knew what Parker was up to and pointed at him, assuring that Parker’d get his sooner or later. Parker only waved happily back at him, huge grin beaming.

xxxxxxxxxx

The booth teetered between cozy and cramped. Bubba and Bill took one side and the ladies the other. Althea quickly found out why Bubba insisted on sitting on the outside. There wasn’t room enough for her legs and his both under the table, without him spilling out into the aisle.

“Sorry,” Althea said dryly, trying to get adjusted. She deliberately diverted her eyes as she spoke to him, “I think I’m done beating you up under there.” She busied her hands, adjusting her long skirt.

“Sure?” he asked, looking up with a quirky smile. It quickly faded into a frown as he realized she was going out of her way to not look at him. Of course, there were plenty of other people in the establishment willing to look at him. At any given time, Bubba looked up to find a quarter of the room scrutinizing him. A few were even brave enough to lock gazes with him, which was a bit unsettling.

Bubba kept his two cents to himself. He couldn’t have decided on who to yell at first anyway, the gawkers or Gillespie.  _Damn eager to keep me away from her and now you’ve stuck me next to her. Thanks, Chief. Thanks a lot._

He studied her face while she wasn’t looking.  _She’s still mad too._ He looked around the room. _Startin’ to get real tired of this_ , he snorted inside his own head.

The casual conversation soon turned to Bubba’s return to full duty status. “How’s it feel to be back?” Harriet asked.

“Exhaustin',” Bubba stated in weary good humor.

Harriet noticed Bill’s expression sour and she quickly intervened. “Well, that’s not surprising. It always takes a few days to get back into the swing. After a long vacation, it sometimes takes me a week and then the whole weekend to recover before I feel back to normal.” She quickly added, “And my job’s not nearly as physically demanding.”

After a few moments of silence, Bill asked Althea, “Have you heard from Virgil?”

Althea was grateful to focus on something for awhile. “I heard from him this past weekend. The job is his. It’s just a matter of tying up loose ends in Philadelphia. He’s looking for a place halfway between here and Jackson.”

Harriet added, “That won’t be much of a drive at all. He’ll be down here all the time.”

“The kids miss him horribly. They can’t wait.”

Harriet asked Althea, “Anyone interested in your old place?"

“Oh, yes. I’ve already received some excellent offers. The realtor suggested I hold out awhile longer. They’ll probably go a good bit higher.” She grinned. “Seller’s market.”

Harriet agreed, "I think it would be enough to buy a nice place here and then some. I’ve been hearing about suburban real estate prices. Very lucrative.”

“Definitely. I couldn’t have chosen a better time to sell out. My parents are thinking about doing the same.”

“Really?” Harriet was intrigued by the idea of having more of the Peterson clan running around. Iron Jaw sounded like quite the character, especially when he could spar with Virgil.

“They’ve always planned on moving to the gulf coast for retirement. That’s one of the reasons I decided to come back here. My parents were going to end up down here sooner or later.”

Bill spoke up, “You say it’s  _one_ of the reasons. I’ve been curious to hear why you’ve decided to come back to Sparta... if it’s not too intrusive to ask.”

Harriet quickly added, “I can certainly see where recent events could be a factor. Staying in Philadelphia after all of that certainly would have made  _me_ uneasy.”

Althea answered, “Well, that was part of it, yes. It also caused a problem with my employer. They weren’t very happy with me.”

This caught Bubba’s attention. Irked, he asked, “Did they happen to forget that doin’ your job was what got ya inta’ that mess to begin with?”

“That’s true, Bubba, but I did bring a bit of their wrath upon myself. I did break patient confidentiality and they were right to look unfavorably on that. I can also see their point about a loss of trust with the patients. If I squealed on one, I could easily squeal on another.”

“That’s the stupidest crap I eva’ heard,” Bubba growled.

Bill added, “I can see their position. I don’t agree with it, but I can see it.”

Harriet tried to bring up the mood of the conversation. “Well, it didn’t slow you down one bit getting a new job.”

Althea smiled and modestly said, “I think they were a little desperate.”

Bubba scolded, “You’re a good therapist. That’s why they hired ya. End of story.”

Leaning over the table slightly, Althea asked, “How would  _you_ know?” She seemed on the verge of sticking out her tongue and taunting him.

Harriet tried to conceal a knowing smile. She finally composed herself and asked Althea, “When do you start this new job?”

“Beginning of the year and I can’t wait. I’m going stir crazy.”

Harriet sipped her soda to keep herself quiet. She wanted to suggest that she make Bubba take her out and occupy her time.  _Or not take her out and occupy her time._ That thought brought a snicker that required more soda. She looked over to notice Bill watching her closely. Just to irritate him, she asked, “Any  _other_ reason you came back?”

“Actually, there was another reason.” Althea suddenly appeared sheepish, picking at her lunch. “I was reminded of how much I had left behind. Everyone was so quick and eager to help me. I realized I didn’t have those kind of friends in Philadelphia. Not to mention that it’s just down right safer for the twins. I know this town has always had its problems, but I think they’ll be far better off here.”

“Still, you had to have left a lot behind in Philadelphia,” Harriet said.

“Yes, a few things. Obviously, my parents. A few friends... but sometimes you just need to move on.”

Harriet asked, “So, no boyfriend left broken hearted back home?”

Althea glanced over to see Harriet looking innocently over her glass. Figuring she could play along, Althea admitted, “No, I’m very single. Very,  _very_ single.” With that, she looked directly at Bubba, waiting for a response from him, if any.

Bubba only muttered, “Plenty of nice guys ‘round here, just keep lookin’.”

Althea’s shoulders sagged. “That’s what you said about houses and I’ve yet to find one.”

To hide a growing smile, Bubba looked at his plate and stabbed at a tomato with his fork. “Well, if you’re tired of lookin’ for eitha’ one... you could just move in with me.”

Harriet almost choked on her cola.

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill and Harriet were deep in conversation as they returned to Harriet’s car after lunch. Even so, Bubba lagged behind to have Althea to himself.

Althea finally said, “You almost gave Harriet a stroke.”

He smiled broadly. “Well, I didn’t mean to. It’s just that a good one like that don’t come along everyday.”

“I’d have fallen for it if I hadn’t seen that little gleam in your eye.”

“Oh, so you believe I’m that easy huh?” He pretended to pout. “Just let any woman just waltz right in....”

She looked him up and down. “I’ve heard stories,” she teased.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his heavy coat. “All lies.... well, one or two might be... alright,  _half_ may be true.” He gave her an angelic expression. “But I’m tryin’ to be good... really.”

“That’s a shame, I like bad boys.”

Bubba smiled, but it quickly faded as he noticed a car run a nearby red light. He stopped and watched the car travel on, catching Althea’s attention. She stopped too, while Bill and Harriet went on without them.

“Know them?” she asked.

He replied coolly, “Yeah, and they oughta’ know betta’.”

“Do you ever take a break from being a cop?” she teased.

“No.” He grinned, turning back to her.

“Come on, they’re waiting on us, Coach.”

He caught up, but seemed to be plodding along wearily.

“You okay?” she asked worriedly.

“It’s nothin’,” he mumbled.

“Now I _know_ it’s something.” Her expression suggested he should just get used to telling her what was wrong. _Nothing_ would never get by her.

“I’m okay,” he assured her. “Really, I’m just a bit wrung out.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be.” Her concern was growing.

Surprising even himself, he stated coldly, “Gettin’ shot ain’t exactly like twistin’ an ankle. It takes awhile, alright.”

Reading her expression, his tone had obviously been too sharp. “Didn’t mean to snap at ya.”

She didn’t reply. Creases of worry just deepened in her pretty face.

Bubba didn’t want to leave things on a sour note, but he didn’t want to talk about it either. He changed the subject. “I guess we’re failin’ miserably at stayin’ apart, huh.”

She laughed, despite her concerns about his condition. Time had smoothed her feelings on the subject of the two of them being seen together. “Bubba, I think we’re doomed no matter what.”

He stopped her with a hand to the crook of her arm. When she turned to face him, he stuck out his hand. “I surrender.”

She shook his hand, trying not to smile too broadly at her victory. “A proper surrender usually comes with terms.”

“You’re pushin’ your luck.”

She shrugged. “A girl has to try.” Hooking her arm through his, they walked on and she asked, “Why the change of heart?”

“You’re pretty much right, ma’am. We’re doomed. With the looks we was gettin’ in there... people have their minds made up already.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he teased, “Anyhow, we wouldn’t be able to stay apart... with ya movin’ in with me and all.”


	4. Chapter 4

Randall pulled his SUV into the mouth of the hangar and out of the rain. He wasted no time getting out, but his passenger got out and hesitated. He looked up to the rafters. Though it was a gentle rain, it sounded like a deluge pounding on the thin metal sheeting overhead.

As Isaac Chiaruttini followed Randall, he passed two planes. He read the logo on the side of the second. _McEntire’s Gulf Coast Transport._

By the time Chiaruttini caught up, Randall had a desk in the back unlocked. The large man dwarfed the cheap metal desk as he dug a slovenly pile of papers from a shallow drawer.

“Should you be keeping this stuff here?” Chiaruttini asked.

Randall glanced up and grinned. “This is a legitimate business, Che Che. No reason to hide anything.”

Chiaruttini felt uncomfortable hearing the nickname from their old Army days.

Randall spotted the other man’s worried expression. “Don’t worry, Che. By the time I’ve got this town on a leash, all this,” he said, holding up a handful of paperwork, “Will be running smooth as a baby’s ass.”

Chiaruttini responded with a cold, doubtful squint.

Randall straightened in his chair. Even cheaper than the desk, the chair squeaked under his weight. His massive neck thickening as he clenched his jaw, he asked harshly, “You getting cold feet?”

Che Che was afraid of being caught, but he wasn’t particularly afraid of Randall. He had all of Randall’s training and ability, plus a bonus of sorts. He didn’t underestimate Randall like Randall underestimated him. Randall underestimated everyone, except himself.

“No, but I’m not stupid either. If this starts to stink, I’m gone. What we’ve done to this point is child’s play. You go bringing that shit into the country and....”

Randall interrupted, “And we’ll both be fucking rich.”

Randall stood up and circled the desk. He glared down at the other man who was several inches shorter. “You and I both joined up because we had no future. Just a couple of dirtbag kids going nowhere.”

Randall didn’t need to rehash Chiaruttini’s past. Isaac remembered just as well as Randall did. Remembered all the time they had spent in training, talking about the day they’d both be somebody. Be rich and famous, with gorgeous women hanging off each arm.

That’s why they hadn’t reenlisted. Men with attitudes like that weren’t military material. The military was about sacrifice and honor and not getting much in return for it.

XXXXXXXXXX

Parker was filled with dread as he spotted Tracy at a booth. He quickly looked to Bubba to see if he’d spotted the blonde too, but it seemed that he hadn’t. Bubba and Tracy in the same room together always ended in trouble, so he tried to find a good place to hide towards the back.

Parker had suggested they grab something to eat, hoping he could get Bubba’s mind off the city council meeting scheduled for the following day. He scanned Bubba discreetly from around his menu, looking for any outward sign that his plan had worked.

The poor light made it nearly impossible to tell. It exacerbated a hollow look to his friend's face. Pale. Sunken eyed. Unshaven.

Trying to sound casual, Parker finally said, “You look a lil' worn out.”

“I always look like this,” Bubba grunted as he flipped the menu to study the other side.

Parker detected a hint of humor in Bubba's words, so he let the subject drop for the moment. He asked, “What ya havin’?”

“Nothin’s lookin' all that good,” he admitted.

Bubba eventually decided on something with no enthusiasm at all. When the food arrived, he just picked at it.

At first, Parker chalked it up to nerves, but the longer he watched, it seemed to be more than that.

“You feelin’ okay?” Parker finally asked.

Bubba shrugged, but his expression didn't tell Parker to stop with the questions. Instead, Bubba looked like a man who didn't have any answers, as if he was thinking, _I don't know, Parka'. Maybe you can tell me._

Parker didn't like that look at all, but his follow up question was put on ice. Tracy had suddenly arrived at their booth. She had always had a flare for picking the worst time to show up.

She was looking only at Bubba as she asked, “Parker, can you give us a minute?”

Parker gave Bubba a questioning glance, hoping he'd get the signal that Bubba intended to send the blonde packing. Parker didn't want her around under the best of circumstances. Now was even worse.

Bubba wasn't in top fighting form and Parker suspected that Tracy was prowling around for that very reason. Bubba was the wounded seal. Tracy was the circling shark.

Looking very much the pitiful part, Bubba motioned that he wanted Parker to go.

Parker sighed his agreement, "Sure."

He slid out of his place. He had to go to the little boys’ room anyway.

He could never stand watching those scenes in nature programs and he didn't want to watch now. Apparently, the seal had given up. When that happened, the ending was pretty much certain.

Tracy assured as he passed her, “It won’t take long.”

 _No, it probably won't._ Parker kept his thoughts to himself as he walked away.

“Make it quick,” Bubba growled as the blonde took Parker’s place.

Maybe Parker had been wrong about the outcome after all. Now that his friend had gone, Bubba seemed far from defeated.

“Down, boy. I just wanted to apologize for the... well....” She motioned to his eye.

His drawl had a razor's edge as he said, “An apology? From you? I’m surprised.” 

“Cut the crap, Bubba. I’m serious. I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I’m tired of looking like the bad guy.” She glanced to the back of the bar where Parker had disappeared. “You saw how he looked at me. We _both_ made big mistakes. You’re no saint, yet I come off looking like a bitch.”

“If the shoe fits,” he grunted back.

Between the sneer and the dark stubble, he wouldn't have looked at all like himself to anyone else, but she knew this side of him well. She had sometimes liked his darker, meaner side. The make-up sex after fights like this had been good, but the sex when he was still pissed at her was even better.

Unaware of what his ex was thinking, Bubba sloshed around what was left of his beer. Everyone kept telling him not to drink, so he was rebelling. He knew it was a childish thing to do, but he was desperate to keep a little control over his own life.

Tracy noted the thoughtful look on his handsome face as he watched the bottle move. She could tell he was definitely somewhere else.

He finally came back, looking more tired than before. He admitted, “You’re right."

He loved to wound her in a way that made him hate himself. When she walked into a room, something in him changed and he was tired of it. Maybe both of them had finally hit rock bottom and grown tired of the fight.

She stretched her slender arm across the table, offering her hand as she asked, “Truce?”

He gazed at her hand. Hot pink polish screamed from each slender finger. Rings sparkled.

He would be a fool to ever trust her again, so he knew he was rolling the dice if he took her hand. Like any gamble, it was all about the odds and how much he was willing to lose.

At worst, she'd get the satisfaction of making him look like a fool as he fell for another ruse. At best, they would have a real and lasting truce.

He finally gave her the weakest of smiles. It was worth a shot. “Truce.”

As usual, she was the dominant one, covering the gap between them to take his hand when he didn't move fast enough to suit her. Everything that he had come to dislike about her was present in that one simple action. She was overly aggressive, domineering and hooked on instant gratification.

The thought that she was nothing like Althea flashed through his mind. It was like the first jagged bolt of lightning from an approaching storm. The thought wasn't out of place, but it still startled him.

Caught unaware, emotions rumbled through him like thunder. They boomed and crashed, before eerily fading away.

Tracy let go and he heard her say pleasant words about things being different this time. With that said, she was gone and he was left alone with his thoughts.

Anyone would agree that the two women were different, but it was how they were different and the feelings it stirred up in him that scared him.

He had never finished that warm beer. He tilted the brown bottle back with the first bit of enthusiasm he had managed all night. Before he had even finished the bottle, he had decided he was just getting started.

Because of Tracy, he had been going through life desensitized. He wanted to get back to that numbness, hence the urge to get drunk. If he stayed sober, he'd keep thinking about Althea.

Dark clouds still loomed overhead. He didn't need any more lightning bolts. One was enough.

He couldn't deny that Althea was beautiful. He had sometimes let his gaze linger on the parts of her he liked best. He had even dared to imagine what it would be like to steal a kiss. He had done it a thousand times before, looking at a hundred beautiful women over the years.

It had seemed harmless to envision a kiss then, but it didn't now.

Beer finished, Bubba was still struggling with visions of not-so-harmless things when Parker returned and took his seat. Feeling guilty as hell about the images and urges that kept popping into his head, Bubba avoided his friend's questioning gaze.

That only made Parker throw a suspicious glance Tracy's way. Parker asked, “What does she want now?”

Bubba didn’t respond. Instead, he studied his empty beer bottle.

Parker sighed heavily. “That good, huh.”

“Just leave it alone, Parka’," Bubba mumbled.

That said, he finally placed the empty bottle on the table. He wanted Parker to discard the subject the same way he was finally discarding the bottle.

Parker replied, “I’m not going to leave it alone. That woman is poison.”

 _That she is_ , Bubba thought coldly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Che Che leaned on Randall’s SUV as he argued with someone on his cellphone. He didn’t notice the red Ford pull in two spaces over. As he looked up to see if Randall was on his way out of the liquor store, he finally noticed the kid in the truck looking at him.

It was a surreal experience for the former soldier, looking at a boy that had been dealt such a bad hand when his own hand had turned up a lot of aces.

The kid had nothing going for him. His shoulder length hair was too curly to ever be cool, though he was obviously going for the rock star look. Acne, thick glasses and being too skinny still wasn't enough. He was homely. The kind of homely that could actually make a person take a reflex-driven step back.

If the kid hadn’t placed Che Che’s face before, he obviously had now. The Ford's pipes issued a nasty growl as the teen quickly restarted the engine. The truck surged backwards and was braked hard. As it was slipped into first, the tires barked, grabbing pavement. A moment later, the truck rocketed out of the parking lot.

Randall walked up, asking, “What the hell was that all about?”

“Get in the truck.” Che Che’s voice was steady, but forceful. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to them. The teen had done enough of that already.

When they were both inside he ordered, “Follow him.”

Randall did as he was told. Everything pointed to a serious situation unfolding, but he knew from experience to keep his head and not make matters worse by doing something stupid, like back into a passing car or waste valuable time with stupid questions.

“We need to get rid of him,” Chiaruttini stated coldly.

Randall continued to follow the Ford.

The Ford weaved badly, the driver too concerned with the threat he saw in the rearview mirror. It was only a matter of time before a critical maneuver and a glance in the rearview came at the same time and the boy put the machine into a ditch or a pole or into an oncoming car.

Randall thought out loud, “It’s still too early in the night... too many people around."

“That’s why we should grab him and think on it.”

“Agreed.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The food had been great and Parker was paying for it. He stepped out into the crisp winter air and rubbed his aching belly. “I have got to stop coming here. Gonna’ have a coronary.”

“Ya should have just focused on gettin’ drunk like me,” Bubba drawled from beside him.

“I’d like to get home _without_ wrapping my Jeep around a tree," Parker replied.

With a groan of misery, Parker stepped off the sidewalk and into the gravel lot. “I hear antacids callin’ my name, Bubba. Let’s get out of here.”

Parker waited for his friend to follow, then kept a watchful eye for sway in Bubba’s gait. He saw none. Bubba wasn’t as intoxicated as he let on, though he had certainly left more empty bottles on the table than usual.

Parker had tried to get Bubba to pace himself, but eventually realized he was just prodding his friend into drinking more.

Once in the Jeep, Parker tried to strike up a conversation. He wanted Bubba to stop thinking about Tracy. He knew that’s why his friend was being so quiet. “I saw Ms. Tibbs today. She asked about you.”

Bubba only scowled and sank into his seat. Parker calling Althea by her old name certainly wasn't helping. Virgil Tibbs had strolled through Bubba's guilty conscious more than once already and Parker was bringing him back for another painful lap.

Noting Bubba’s reaction, Parker said, “Awful glum for a guy with a pretty girl asking about him.”

Next to Bubba's stormy mood, Parker's cheerful demeanor seemed even more sunny. Bubba wasn't in the mood for sunshine. He wanted clouds and rain.

No, he wanted a gun-metal gray blanket of clouds that hung so low they seemed close enough to touch. The kind that made him think the bleak winter would never end and nothing would ever be green again.

Bubba had worked himself into a foul mood. Anger was an easier emotion to deal with than the myriad of others he had churning inside.

He had found something that made him see red and had focused on it for most of the evening. Even now, his anger still burned hot, making him growl, "One day, Parka’. Only takes one day for somethin’ to get all the way ‘round this damn town.”

Bubba hunched even deeper into the seat and crossed his arms. “Go out with a damn gorilla and they'd take less notice.”

Parker was beginning to understand. Maybe Tracy wasn't at the center of things after all.

Bubba and Althea’s outing of the day before had made the rounds in record time. Carter’s editorial had pushed them to the top of the list of people to watch and they had certainly been watched.

Parker advised, “You’re just going to have to get used to it, Bubba... or just marry the girl and be done with it.”

Even though Bubba shot Parker a glare, Parker couldn’t drop his goofy grin. Parker assured him, “Just a suggestion.”

“Don’t need suggestions like that, Parka’,” Bubba grunted.

Parker shifted the Jeep into gear. “If you say so.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Chiaruttini straightened his gloves before shifting the big Ford into gear. He followed Randall to a secluded spot well away from town. It didn’t give them much cover. It was only an overgrown abandoned property, barely off the road. Before he’d even switched off the engine, he saw Randall jerk the bound and gagged teenager out of the back seat of his SUV.

Walking up to the terrified kid, Chiaruttini squatted down to study the boy. He said bluntly, “Don’t think too badly of me, kid. If you hadn’t been driving like a fucking idiot, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“This is the kid?” Randall asked. Everything had happened too fast.

Che Che nodded with a smirk. The kind that screamed, _Ain't life a bitch._

The boy mumbled and thrashed about, but neither of the two men towering over him gave him so much as a passing glance. Whether the boy was begging, making excuses or just wanting to make some final appeal to his maker, neither seemed willing to permit it.

“Any suggestions?” Che Che asked of Randall.

“Suicide?” Randall suggested.

They both pondered their weapons. They would have to leave one of the handguns on the scene to pass off a headshot as a suicide. Neither could guarantee one hundred percent that their sidearm was untraceable. Neither man had been expecting this.

“Too risky,” Randall finally decided. “All sorts of ways to kill oneself though.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have any pills... or a rope. We can slit his wrists, but that gets messy.”

Randall’s mind raced. Every minute they stood there was another minute closer to someone seeing something. Considering all the trouble he had caused, Randall would have preferred to beat the brat to death.

Chiaruttini looked over to see Randall smiling wickedly. The larger man latched on to the teen and started pulling him along. The scrawny youth was no match for the hulk of a former soldier.

Randall was headed up the grassy lane towards the road as he ordered, “Get that truck up on the shoulder, Che Che. I've got a solution to our little problem.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba went out onto his front porch and passed the time watching the stars. Most of the time, he didn’t see them. His mind was far away.

The evening chill started to seep into his bones. About to get up, a car pulled into his driveway. _This is the last thing I need right now_.

“I saw the lights on,” Tracy said, trotting up the front steps.

“About to call it a night.” He didn’t look at her. He'd found that to be a good battle strategy. He'd been told time and time again that it was his eyes that gave him away.

She confessed, “Anytime I come out this way, I can’t resist driving by. Just a stupid way to torture myself, I guess.” She shrugged. “I shouldn’t have even stopped. I ask for a truce, then I come by and make a nuisance of myself.”

Bubba got up slowly, still avoiding her eyes. He wasn’t staggering drunk, but he wasn’t at his sharpest either.

His mind reeled as she chattered on, “Turning out to be a chilly winter.”

 _Just go inside and close the door and sleep it off._ He finally said, “Is pretty cold, that’s why I’m takin’ my half frozen behind back inside. G'night, Tracy.”

It was the gentleman in him that sealed his fate. He couldn’t just walk away rudely without acknowledging her in some way. She was being civil and that was a start. He looked her in the eye. He hoped she would see that he appreciated the change.

Tracy’s eyes danced with something that made him take a step back. He instantly regretted the sign of yielding. She approached him aggressively.

His tipsy state put him at a disadvantage. Her hands seemed to be all over him in an instant. He thought she was trying to devour his bottom lip as he took backwards steps in retreat. When he had backed into the front door, he managed to grab her by the arms and hold her at bay.

“For Christ’s sake, Tracy,” he muttered. He dared to let one of her arms go. He wiped his mouth, expecting to pull back a hand smeared with blood. There was definitely the unmistakable hint of copper in his mouth.

Letting one of her arms go was a mistake. Tall, she easily got her free arm around his neck and leaned in close.

“I saw the way you were looking at me,” she murmured in his ear. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Something in her voice soothed him and slowed everything down. For that brief moment, she sounded just as lost and confused as he was.

The weight of her warm body against his came as an unexpected comfort. Why _was_ he pushing? He'd already committed this sin time and time again. As with their truce, he reasoned that he had nothing to lose.

He only answered her question with another question, “Why do ya keep comin’ back?”

She pressed herself against his most sensitive parts. Smiling as he let out a faint groan, she murmured, “It was nice, some of the time."

He was disappointed by her shallow answer. He wanted the deeper truth, but there wasn't anything deeper. She really was that empty, only capable of love at the surface. If it was ever love at all.

That's why she lived a life of such emotional extremes. There was nothing inside her to anchor her emotions to, leaving her feelings to drift around on an endless sea at the surface. She felt whatever emotion happened to blow in.

Lust was easy, so there was more of it drifting around. Love was hard, but even harder for someone like her. When she struggled with emotions like that, she just stirred up a hurricane.

Tracy thought his silence meant that her words were working. She continued, “Remember when we’d go down to the lake on the weekends?”

He didn’t resist her as she laid her head on his shoulder and ran her hand up under his shirt. She reminded, “And sometimes we wouldn’t go anywhere at all.”

Not one to caress, Tracy kneaded his chest, wanting to feel the muscle. She purred her approval, liking him hard and lean.

He wasn't flattered. He didn't want to be groped and mauled.

He took hold of her hand as she continued to fondle him roughly under his shirt. He drawled softly, "Go easy... ya don't have to rush...."

As usual, sensing she was getting her way, Tracy immediately dove in.

The alcohol wasn’t enough to cloud his judgment, but his inner misery did a fine job. He knew he wasn't going to get what he needed from her. She'd merely take what she wanted, but he was too emotionally downtrodden to care.

Inside, he churned with regret, confusion and loneliness. Disappointment too, because Tracy would never change and for right now, she was all he had. Most of all, there was painful resignation. He knew his place.

He returned Tracy's next kiss. As well as the one after that.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sandra Schaadt was a tiny wisp of a young woman, but no one hearing her scream would have imagined that all that noise could come from such a tiny frame. She clasped her hands over her mouth and glanced around desperately. Hearing a vehicle coming, she ran into the middle of the road and waved them down.

The driver of the pickup had no trouble seeing her in her bright jogging outfit and stopped. 

Though the Sheriff’s Department was done with her in less than an hour, it was a morning that would remain with her for the rest of her life. It was the first and last time she’d see a corpse outside of a funeral home.

While one deputy escorted Sandra away, another grimaced as he had the pleasure of using a jack to lift the truck off the body.

“Let’s just hope the poor boy went quick,” the sheriff said sadly. He’d come out to oversee things and now wished he hadn’t. He’d never seen anything quite like it. All they could fathom was that after experiencing a flat tire, the driver of the truck, a teenage boy, had attempted to take off the tire to get it serviced. The truck sported a six inch body lift and massive tires. While struggling with the tire, the boy had most likely dislodged the jack and been crushed.

The hub, under the weight of the Ford’s massive engine, had made short work of the boy’s chest. With the truck on the shoulder, the boy’s body had been concealed in the tall grass of the ditch line, only to be noticed by the unfortunate jogger.

The sheriff watched on as his deputies worked to level the truck and secure it with an impressive set of jacks. Meanwhile, a new tire arrived. The barely street legal pick-up wasn't going anywhere without it. Even with it, the condition of the axle and frame was anyone's guess.

After the truck was fitted with the replacement tire and considered safe, one of the deputies stepped up into the cab. They had run the plates already, but wanted to verify the registration as accurate. The information found in the glovebox matched. The truck was registered to a Matthew McGinnis.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bill Gillespie sat before several familiar faces. Harriet caught him looking at her and gave him a wave. Her expression was calm and in control. She had no idea how much strength she gave him with her presence.

Peake stood to Bill’s left. Bill knew the meeting would be heated and had specifically chosen Peake as his driver for the day. He needed someone seasoned and respected, but mellow. Everything he’d do today would be calculated. One distraction, one misspoken word or twitch, could ruin everything. His casual demeanor had to hold. He didn’t need to win, he just needed to stall.

Clark Randall held to his reputation, coming in late. He’d kept the council waiting and only Harriet caught his eye and gave him a scowl. The rest fell into line like sheep.

The city council meeting went on just as Bill had expected it would. He was actually grateful when the elephant in the center of the room was finally addressed.

Gary Mitchell was the eldest council member, practically a fossil. He nervously straightened papers that didn’t need arranging. “Chief Gillespie, after much careful deliberation, prior to this meeting, and in light of what we’ve heard here this evening, I think I can speak for the council. I think you should seriously consider terminating Capt. Skinner and begin the process of finding a suitable replacement.”

Bill caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Peake was agitated, but holding steady. He only crossed his massive arms and scowled deeply. _Just hold, my boy_ , Bill thought. _The fireworks will be over soon._

“You do notspeak for this _entire_ council, Mr. Mitchell. I suggest you check yourself,” Harriet spat viciously. She wanted to say more, but she followed Bill’s instructions. This was his show.

Mitchell had received specific instructions from Randall. He had been assigned more to say and he ignored the fear knotting in his stomach. He wasn’t used to making threats, especially against the likes of the Chief of Police. “If we cannot come to terms on this issue, Chief Gillespie, I fear that further actions may need to be taken. Your officers are _your_ responsibility.”

Bill politely nodded his head one time. “I’ve never denied that. I consider it a privilege.”

Another council member quickly called to move on with the agenda and there was no argument.

XXXXXXXXXX

Peake followed closely at Bill’s heel, until they reached his personal car. As Peake opened the passenger side door for the older man, he said softly, “Should I even ask, Chief?”

“Don’t worry,” Bill reassured him, “Just keep it to yourself until tomorrow morning’s briefing. I’m sure everyone will have heard by then.”

Peake only stood there quietly.

“All will be revealed soon enough.”

“Back to the station, Chief?”

“No, take me home. I’m going to lock myself away for the evening.” No sooner than he’d taken his place in the passenger seat, Bill’s cellphone rang. He turned it off and motioned Peake to move along.

XXXXXXXXXX

Virginia Skirvin pressed the record button on her handheld tape recorder before she even started going against the flow of people coming out of City Hall. She was often teased for using old technology, but she'd found that tiny digital devices didn't get her any respect. Sticking a bulky tape recorder in someone's face, on the other hand, got some attention.

She pushed ahead. “Excuse me. Excuse me... get out of my way, Rick... excuse me.... Harriet. Harriet!”

Harriet turned at the mention of her name. She’d been standing with her back to the street, chatting with a small group of people.

Virginia wasted no time. Lifting her recorder to pick up their conversation, she asked, “Harriet, is Skinner really on his way out?”

Harriet was surprised at how quickly the news had broken, but then realized that Randall had probably tipped off the press himself. “It’s just tough talk,” Harriet answered curtly.

“So there _is_ talk?”

“Yes.” Harriet was trying to keep to Bill’s directions. His words replayed in her mind. _Don’t be silent. Be truthful. Short and simple. Above all else, don’t say_ no comment.

“How tough is this talk? Will it stick?”

“Time will tell,” was Harriet’s response.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harriet walked through her front door. Unable to control herself for long, she shouted, “The town is in a frenzy. They haven’t gotten their teeth into gossip this juicy in a _long_ time.”

She hastily started undoing the buttons on her coat.

Meanwhile, Bill emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, which he quickly set aside as he settled into his chair. “They’re not looting and pillaging are they?”

With a grin, she assured him, “Not yet.”

“I suppose we’ll know soon enough. We’ll see the town burning through the window there.”

“And you’d sit back and enjoy the show.”

Bill pulled a lever and sent his chair into a reclined position. “At this point, my love, I think I would.” After a brief pause, he added, “Yes, I definitely would.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba stuffed a pillow over his head. It didn’t help. He could still hear his phone, it was just muffled now. He mumbled something unpleasant as he finally sat up in bed.

Reaching out, Bubba picked up the receiver only to slam it down again. Then he reached under the table and disconnected the jack.

It wasn’t long before he was asleep again. Unfortunately, the unending phone calls were likely proof that trouble had dawned at the council meeting as they’d feared. Bubba’s anxiety manifested in his dreams, bringing up old nightmares that had just recently started to fade.

It wasn’t long before he jerked awake. Sitting up, with the sheets painfully clenched in his fists, he looked frantically around the room. He was confused and disoriented as his mind tried briefly to exist in two places at once.

He rubbed his chest, but didn't find the gaping hole that had been pivotal to his nightmare. Entirely back in the real world, he settled down under the sheets again. He laid there for only a moment before tossing the covers aside. Overheated, he let the sweat of his frantic nightmare evaporate.

Bubba had a sinking suspicion that his dream was more memory than not. It always ended the same way. A man, dressed in medical garb, was shining a light in his eyes and muttering, “He’s probably a lost cause.”

After what he’d done the night before, he was starting to agree with the strange figure in his nightmares. Tracy was trouble. Big trouble.

XXXXXXXXXX

Francis Angelopoulos drummed her fingers anxiously at the front desk while waiting for the officer to come back to her. She knew he’d struggle with her name. People always did.

“The chief can see you, but only for a few minutes.” Peake noticed that the small teenager seemed apprehensive. He softly offered her some simple advice, “He growls a lot, but he rarely bites. Keep it brief and you’ll do fine.”

As they walked into Bill’s office, Peake pointed to the chair intended for her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking her seat.

Bill motioned Peake away and the younger man closed the office door on his way out.

Bill broke the silence, “I rarely have the youth of Sparta coming to my office of their own free will. This must be very pressing.”

“I think it is,” Francis answered quickly. “Toby McGinnis was a friend of mine. A close friend and I don’t believe what the papers say.”

Bill only raised an eyebrow. Intending to follow the nice officer’s advice, Francis continued, “I think he was murdered.” That sent Bill’s eyebrow up another quarter inch.

The small girl shrugged. “I know it seems pretty cut and dry to you, but he saw something.”

Leaning forward at his desk, Bill asked, “What did he see?”

“He saw the guy that smashed up the mayor’s car.”

Bill leaned back. This was certainly not something he’d expected. “Why didn’t he volunteer this information to us?”

Francis admitted sheepishly, “Toby caused the accident.”

Bill rubbed his chin as the plot thickened. “Tell me the whole story.”

“He came to me freaked out. Said he was coming home pretty wasted....”

She looked to see if the chief understood what _wasted_ meant. He motioned for her to continue. “Well, being wasted, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what happened, but he thinks he swerved into the other guy’s lane and forced him off into a tree.”

Bill thought about it. There was no evidence to contradict this possible scenario. “Did Toby see the driver?”

“Yeah, that’s why he freaked and ran. Toby said he stopped and went back, after he thought about it. He was afraid somebody was hurt. By the time he got back to the car, the driver was out and seriously pissed off.”

Francis cringed as she realized she had said _pissed_.

Bill only motioned her on.

“He pulled a gun on Toby and tried to take his dad’s truck, but he got away.”

Bill hated to admit it, but if true, this made the boy’s death very suspicious.

“I tried to talk him into going to the cops, but he wouldn’t do it. He was a lot more scared of his dad than some car thief. If his dad had found out he’d been drivin’ his truck drunk like that... and almost killed somebody....”

“I can understand your concern, but it's still more likely that your friend just had a horrible accident,” Bill tried to reason.

“That’s not all of it,” Francis insisted. “He shouldn’t have been out there. He was going to pick up a pizza and come over to my house that night. He never showed.”

The small girl became more earnest, “And there’s nothing out there where they found him. He doesn’t have any friends out there.” She admitted sadly, “He didn’t have hardly any friends at all.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Marissa sat curled up in an overstuffed chair. She kept changing channels. Beyond the hope of finding anything good, she’d made a game of looking for the worst program on. Deciding there were too many possible winners to choose from _, s_ he rolled her eyes, turned off the television and tossed the remote into another chair across the room.

“Sorry to see that you’re so bored with our fine programming. Here. I've got a few things I want you to look at,” Agent Pearson stated, tossing manilla folders in Marissa’s lap.

Pearson was a rare sight at the safe house. She hadn’t decided yet whether she liked him or not.

She didn’t speak, only grimaced at the photos within the files. After a quick flip through, she had a basic idea of what she was looking at. She then went back for the details, like dates and locations. The names she already knew. She recognized all the victims. Finally, she muttered, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Our thoughts exactly.”

Marissa looked up. Deep creases etched her brow. “You have no clue at all?"

Pearson leaned back and crossed his legs. Steepling his hands, he explained, “I don’t want to taint your prospective, just tell me what you’re thinking.”

She only gave him an odd look and began, “Well, these guys are from all across the board... way across the board. There’s somebody here from every major operation in and around Philly, except Blair’s.”

She sighed and met Pearson’s eyes. “These guys are all small timers. Murdering these guys... like this... isn’t even worth the trouble.”

Pearson only sat silently, waiting for her to continue. When she finally did, she picked up a file and skimmed it again. “This has got to be more than it appears to be. Power play? A threat? I don’t know.”

Marissa rubbed her face wearily. The hair on the back of her neck was up. There was something about this that reeked of something far more sinister than her imagination could come up with. “Can I keep them for awhile?” she asked.

Pearson stood up. “Yeah, go ahead.” He came closer and added, “I’m getting the impression that you’re as concerned as we are.”

“Concerned? I might not know all the details, but this is bizarre... and bizarre isn’t good in my old line of work.”

She rubbed her chin roughly, not really paying attention as Pearson showed himself out. _What the hell is going on?_

Marissa should have felt safe and secure away from Philadelphia, but she didn’t. She felt horribly vulnerable. Cut off from her sources, she was blind and deaf to danger.

XXXXXXXXXX

Luann walked into the pizzeria during the busy dinner hour. She caught the first waitress she could find and asked to see the manager. Being Toby’s usual place to get pizza, Luann thought it the logical place to start.

“Can you tell me if a pizza was ordered and not picked up?” she asked the manager. She’d already asked around. If there had been a pizza in Toby’s truck, it was gone by the time the sheriff’s deputies arrived on the scene _._

“Depends. When?”

“Little under a week ago. The 16th... a Tuesday.”

“Name?”

“McGinnis.”

“We’re not real fancy around here with our records. If someone didn’t scribble a note on the receipt, you’re out of luck.”

The manager rummaged around in a pile of receipts. “We try to stress that the cashier do it, though. Cause what we do is, we’ll just offer it to someone else at a reduced price until someone’s interested and takes it. The reduced price screws up the amount we expect in the till.”

The younger man looked at Luann and said, “Then it gets real ugly.” He searched another pile. “Cause then everybody starts arguin’ over who stole the... hey, think I found it!”

Luann looked at the receipt he offered her. It seemed pretty cut and dry. It listed a large supreme ordered under the name of McGinnis. In a sloppy scrawl underneath, it was listed as unclaimed and sold for four dollars off.

XXXXXXXXXX

Marissa had been through the details. Then, she’d gone through them again. She was on the verge of screaming in frustration.

She’d originally placed all the crime scene photos out side by side. After that grew old, she’d settled on one photo from each scene to give her a fresh perspective. Now she stood up and paced. The photos weren’t speaking, nothing about the cases was speaking to her. She rubbed under her mane of dark hair. It was a nervous tick.

She hated this. Memorization was her specialty. Faces, names, dates, keeping it all straight, that was her thing. When she had the facts, she could deal with anything. It was when the facts came in puzzles with too many missing pieces that she became lost. That’s how she felt now. Lost.

During the past few hours, she’d come to only one conclusion. Somewhere within all these files was a message. It was no coincidence that Blair’s operation had come out unscathed in this strange show of force. The more she studied the pics, the more it was apparent that they were attempting to scare someone. The murders were bloody and gruesome.

Marissa stopped Cornwell in the hall. She hated talking to him, but he was in charge when Pearson was absent. “You know when Pearson will be back?”

“No, why?”

“I need to talk to him,” she replied hastily.

Cornwell showed one of his rare moments of decency. “I’ll see what I can do.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Staring into her bathroom mirror, Althea inserted one earring, then the other.

“Mom, Billy can’t find his shoes,” Sarah called from the hallway.

“Well, help him look. I haven’t seen them.”

When silence returned, she was once again asking herself if this was a good idea. The Gillespies' Thanksgiving party had been a disaster. _For me, anyways,_ she thought.

She had a gut feeling that she wouldn’t fare much better at their Christmas party.

“Hey, momma,” Billy called from the doorway.

“Yes, my darling son,” she teased.

“Will Bubba be there?”

“Yes, he probably will,” she replied.

Althea then remembered Billy’s shoes. Looking to see if they were on his feet, she noticed his cargo pants pockets were bulging. Then they moved. “What in the world do you have in your pockets?”

Billy yanked both flaps open and produced a huge bullfrog from both.

She gasped, but quickly composed herself. Frogs didn’t scare her, but it wasn’t everyday that two were thrust into her face.

“Think Bubba’d want to see them. Alex gave them to me.” He held up one. “This is Fred.” Then he held up the other. “This is Wilma.” He scrunched up his face. “But I’m pretty sure they’re both boys.”

Althea stared at the long legs dangling before her. “They’re very nice, Billy. But nice pants’ pockets are no place for frogs.”

“It’s cold out there, momma. They’ll freeze.”

 _The last thing I need is his frogs loose at the party._ About to deflate his hopes and have him put them away, she had an evil thought. Giving in to it, she said, “Well, since those pockets have already been slimed, I don’t see any harm.”

Billy trotted away, thinking his mom was the coolest mom ever.

Althea looked back to the mirror and saw the gleam in her own eye. _I’m tempted to tell him to stick them in the punch bowl._

XXXXXXXXXX

The frogs were a huge hit at the party. The department’s woes were temporarily forgotten as Billy showed off Fred and Wilma with pride. Unfortunately, Bubba didn’t show.

Althea had watched the clock, as the twins kept busy with the other children. The mixed party was planned to end at ten o’clock. It would be for adults only after that. She left far earlier than necessary.

She now looked into the rearview mirror and could tell that Billy was still disappointed. He loved his father dearly, but that didn’t stop him from idolizing Bubba as well. “Sorry, kiddo. I thought he’d be there. Bet something important came up.”

Billy tried to hide his hurt feelings. “It’s okay. I’ll just show him some other time.”

She looked at her little boy in the mirror again. Sarah was trying to cheer him up, but wasn’t having much success.

XXXXXXXXXX

Althea rang Bubba’s doorbell. She stifled a smile, thinking back to the last time she'd come by unannounced. Pouncing on him would have come with major consequences, but fantasizing was absolutely free, so she had done that instead and had continued to do so. It was just too much fun.

A naughty grin broke through as bits and pieces came back to her. _Oh, if he had any idea..._

A vehicle she didn’t recognize was in his driveway. There was always the possibility that it might belong to a lady friend. Taking things slow came with consequences too.

She hit the button again.

She didn't want to rush things with him. After what she had been through, she needed time to sort out her feelings. She needed to make sure that she hadn't just developed a passing crush that would fizzle out when she got her life back on track.

She couldn't imagine a mere crush feeling like this, but she had to be sure. There was a real chance that a handsome and heroic sort like Bubba had easily turned her head when she was at her most vulnerable. It wasn't fair to her or to him to jump too soon.

Someone opened the door, but it wasn’t Bubba.

Althea had suspected a woman might be there. She hadn’t expected it to be _this_ woman.

 _Tracy_ , Althea thought in stunned horror. The sheer shock dumped ice water into her veins. She didn’t know if Tracy knew her, but she certainly knew Tracy.

“Althea? Althea Tibbs. I haven’t seen you since you left town. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Tracy’s tone was overly sweet.

Quickly composing herself, Althea asked, “Is Bubba here?”

With a smirk that morphed flawlessly into an angelic smile, Tracy replied, “Of course he is.”

Which translated easily into _, Why else would I be here?_

Pressing the point, the lithe blonde straightened her attire, which was one of Bubba’s button down shirts. With her long legs and the whole valley between her breasts exposed, she was definitely wearing nothing else.

Tracy turned and announced loudly, “You have company.”

“What sorta’ company?” Bubba growled back.

Not about to stand by meekly, Althea added loudly, “The kind that wants to know why you didn’t show at the party.”

She looked Tracy up and down. Annoyed, Althea spouted bluntly, “It’s pretty obvious now that I’m here.”

Bubba had slipped into his pants and boots as soon as he had heard the doorbell. He looked for his shirt, then groaned when he realized where it was.

He grabbed a fresh t-shirt and hoped he was somewhat presentable. He wanted to shower off the remnants of his ex, but there was no time. Worst of all, Althea was going to know and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

He had started out wanting to push her away, but now, disappointing her was the last thing he wanted to do. What she thought of him meant everything.

He ran his hands hastily through his hair to comb it as best he could. He cared that she sounded angry. He cared that she knew exactly what was going on with Tracy. Cared that she was going to be disappointed in him. He cared because he felt something for her.

It didn't mean he had to act on it, but it wasn't going away. He couldn't play that game of denial anymore.

“Ma’am,” was all he could manage as he greeted Althea in the front hall.

To him, she looked beautiful. Irked with him, but still beautiful.

She wore a delicate dark green blouse that plunged in the front. An ankle length peasant skirt in various shades of brown added to the earthy look. Over it all, she wore a thick fleece jacket against the cold. A knitted scarf hung loosely around her neck.

As always, she was in stark contrast to Tracy. She looked warm and approachable.

Althea looked Bubba up and down as if she had something sharp to say about what she was seeing. How he was dressed wasn't important to her. It was knowing that he hadn't been dressed for long. 

He merely looked at her sheepishly and waited for it.

Althea began to regret letting her anger show. She didn’t want either of them having the satisfaction of knowing she was upset.

She saw Tracy smirk at her again and felt her temper flare even hotter. Tracy's expression was one of pure anticipation. The blonde couldn't wait to see what happened next.

Althea shuddered inwardly at the thought of what they had been doing. She was no prude. People hooked up. They had sex. As long as no one was breaking a monogamous commitment to someone else and all parties were willing, she didn't care.

Yes, she was jealous. More jealous than she thought she was capable of, but that wasn't what bothered her most.

Tracy didn't love him. She was just standing there. She just wanted to watch. Wanted to see what another woman would say to Bubba to hurt him.

Althea tried to label it as meaningless sex and let it go, but she couldn't. Bubba wasn't the sort for meaningless sex, which meant he cared and Tracy certainly didn't. That was obvious at first glance.

Jealousy twisted Althea one way. Bubba's warped relationship with his ex twisted her another. In the middle was Tracy and Althea's dark eyes fell on her. The biting glare lingered long enough to send Tracy's smirk into hiding.

Sensing trouble, Bubba put himself between the two women. He tried to take Althea by the arm, but she jerked away from him. The gesture spoke loudly and his pitiful expression spoke back. She had wounded him.

Althea finally snorted, “You bowed out of the party and left me standing there getting the third degree."

She hadn’t come to discuss that particular point, but it gave her something to say, breaking the strange silence.

Bubba’s temper boiled up to the surface and he drawled hotly, “Somebody botha’ you?”

Althea was taken by surprise. Bubba looked more than willing to put his fist through some poor sap’s ribcage and rip out his heart.

Not sure what to think, she explained, “No, no one bothered me, but you know how it is. They stare, they whisper, they want to start trouble.”

He knew exactly what she meant and wanted to comfort her, but touching her was out of the question. He had learned his lesson the first time around.

He said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t think you needed me there.”

He regretted his choice of words. There was nothing like announcing that he was her loyal puppy. If she needed him, he was there. If she didn't, he'd wait.

Thinking of one very disappointed little boy, she said, “I did need you there. Billy had his heart set on showing you something. He’s in the car."

Seeing reluctance on his face, she assured, "It’ll only take a minute... it’s not much, but he’s a city boy... and his father’s not here....”

Bubba began to object, wanting to suggest a better place and time. His living room had started to feel like the set of a bad soap opera.

She could practically read his mind. Her smile told him that he could trust her judgment.

That was good enough for him. He had already let her down enough for one day with his lousy decision making.

A moment later, Billy was in Bubba’s living room pulling a mammoth frog from his pocket.

Bubba sat down on the couch and studied the frog. For the time being, his problems with the opposite sex were forgotten. “Now that’s a dandy,” he said.

Tracy, standing off to herself, had no clue what the boy had until he abruptly turned and shoved it in her direction for her viewing pleasure. She shrieked.

“It’s just a frog, Tracy,” Bubba said with obvious annoyance.

He frowned as he looked at her long bare legs, wondering why she didn’t get some clothes on. Then he realized she was deliberately taunting Althea and probably had been from the onset.

Bubba took the monster amphibian gently away from the boy. Billy quickly pulled out the other one.

Bubba commented, “Some fine lookin’ frogs ya got there, Billy.”

Althea quietly asked, “It won’t hurt them, keeping them in his pockets like that?”

Bubba shook his head. “Oh, no, ma’am. They like warm, dark places. Long as you don’t squish ‘em, they’ll live to a ripe ol’ age.”

He grinned at Billy. “Frogs is what pockets was made for.”

Bubba then quizzed the boy thoroughly and Billy was full of eager answers.

“Alright, you two, we’d better go. It’s getting late,” Althea finally said.

Billy quietly collected his pets and started to follow his sister. He then quickly asked, “You ever race frogs, Bubba?”

“Well, sure I have. Way back when I was a kid,” Bubba replied.

“Can you show me how?”

Bubba chuckled warmly, “Sure, but there ain’t a whole lot to it. You just gotta’ get ‘em to go... and in the right direction.”

While Bubba told Billy the finer details of the frog racing industry, Althea watched on. She didn’t know she was smiling until she looked up to see Tracy glaring at her. She then looked back to Bubba. His history with Tracy was still mostly unknown territory to her. Maybe it should just stay that way.

Althea then looked to her daughter, who had been very quiet during the whole visit so far. She was surprised to see the young girl frowning, obviously deep in thought. Sensing trouble, Althea hustled the twins out the door towards the car.

She turned to Bubba at the front door. “He just had his heart set on you being there. They don’t see you much anymore.”

She looked to Tracy, then back to him again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just come barging over.”

Her temper had cooled considerably. All she really felt now was concern and it showed.

Bubba wasn't in a healthy relationship with his ex. Tracy wasn't the fragile type, but Bubba was. Althea knew how this was going to end.

Bubba’s voice was soft as he pleaded, “Ma’am, about me and Tracy. I....”

“It's none of my business.” She considered that the truth. They weren’t a couple.

She went out and he followed, even though he only had on a t-shirt. Althea turned to him before they could be overheard by the twins. “I don’t know much about Tracy or what happened between the two of you, but I _do_ know she’s hurt you. Parker wouldn’t brake for that woman if he saw her crossing the street... that tells me all I need to know.”

He only listened intently, arms crossed. His shoulders were hunched against the wind.

“You can do better,” she stated.

“I know.” He studied his boots, obviously ashamed of the situation.

She asked, utterly perplexed, “Then why is she here?”

She wished she hadn't asked that as she realized that she might actually get an answer. He looked almost willing to give one and she didn't want to hear some cliche, like it just happened or one thing led to another.

It boiled down to her thinking he was better than that, but that was likely what had happened. Convenient sex. It just happened or one thing led to another.

A bit of the old anger returned. She whispered, but forcefully, “You act like you don’t want her here, yet there she is!”

She turned and walked away, leaving him to think about what she had said. She thought she had summed it up pretty well. Did he really want his ex there or not?


	5. Chapter 5

Bubba stirred in bed and then looked to his alarm clock. He then looked to Tracy’s sleeping form. She’d stayed, complaining she was too tired to drive. It was the last thing he had wanted after the evening’s debacle.

With his conscience still weighing heavily on him, he got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He thought about eating, knowing he needed to. His stomach protested before the first sight of food.

At the patio door, he looked down to see his dog curled up and sleeping on the wood deck. It was unusual for the dog to sleep on the deck, he preferred his dog house. It was even more unusual for him to sleep in front of a door. He’d once taken a boot heel right to one of his long floppy ears and he hadn’t cared for sleeping in the way since.

Bubba opened the door and Knothead didn’t hesitate to come inside, tail wagging.

“Somethin’ got ya spooked there, ol’ boy?”

The dog whined and licked his master’s hand.

“You’re not sick, are ya?”

The dog looked no less spry than usual, but Bubba knew that old dogs could go quick. He dreaded the possibility, but faced it. “You can’t leave me, dim bulb. You’re all I got left.”

Bubba squatted down and asked the dog, “Think the bill collector’ll take you too?”

He scratched the dog’s chin. “They seem to want to take everything else ‘round here. They might even take your dog house. You’re not behind on your rent are ya?”

The dog flopped his back half on the tile floor and swished his tail back and forth.

“You might not be, but I am,” Bubba admitted softly to his companion.

Looking up, Bubba half expected to find Tracy eavesdropping. “‘For long, they’ll come and throw me out and there won’t be anybody here to feed ya.”

The dog huffed and glared at Bubba intently.

“Yeah, thought that would get your attention.”

The court had looked unfavorably on Tracy’s infidelity and Bubba had walked away with most of the assets, including a house with a mortgage he couldn’t afford. Tracy had been the main bread winner and losing her salary had been crippling.

He’d fought to keep the house for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. He’d worked extra hours and sold off everything he could. He’d even rented out the stables after selling his own horses.

He’d squeaked by for awhile, until he went and got himself into trouble. After being off work for so long and facing mounting bills that the insurance company refused to pay, he didn’t have many options left.

Giving the dog a final pat on the head, Bubba ambled into the living room. He found that the couch looked rather inviting. He had the rest of the week off, so he didn’t fear falling asleep away from his alarm clock. Tracy was far more terrifying than getting to work late anyway.

The dog jumped onto the couch with him. Knothead seemed determined to sleep more on his master than on the couch.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba was rousted by Tracy’s heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She hastily walked into the kitchen, only acknowledging him by saying, “I’m going home.”

He heard her rummaging around in the kitchen before she came back out with an insulated cup, which he assumed held instant coffee.

She scowled and asked, “Why do you let that flea bag get on the furniture?”

Bubba looked to Knothead. “She askin’ you or me?”

Tracy rolled her eyes. “I’ll be busy the next few days, so....”

_Don’t make a nuisance of yourself and botha’ me,_ Bubba imagined as the way she’d like to finish her statement.

“I’ll call you.” With that said, she flung her purse over her shoulder and left without as much as a look back or a kiss goodbye.

When he heard Tracy’s car go around the circle drive out front, Bubba leaned close to the dog and confessed, “Only a few more weeks there, bud. That should be long enough.”

For the first time, since the night before, he felt good. He felt a slight tug of guilt, but it was overwhelmed by a growing sense of satisfaction. It felt good to use Tracy for once, instead of it being the other way around.

XXXXXXXXXX

Peake and Everett walked into the station, visibly weary.

“Any luck?” Dee asked.

Peake only shook his head, while Everett said, “We’ve canvassed all the way from Toby’s house to the pizza place. Nobody remembers seeing him.”

“I had better luck,” another voice added meekly.

Luke turned to the source of the voice and found a teenage girl looking back at him. She had entered behind them, unnoticed. Her straight brown hair was all the same length and with no makeup to enhance one feature over another, she looked bland. 

Peake nudged Luke and whispered, “It’s Francis, Toby’s friend.”

Luke smiled at the girl and said, “It’s real nice, the effort you’ve put in on Toby’s behalf.”

Francis blushed and clutched her textbooks tight against her chest. She thought Luke was incredibly cute and was overcome with shyness.

She managed to say, “I’ve been asking around at the high school. Someone saw him only a block from the pizza place about nine o’clock. That’s as good as I could do.”

Peake and Everett exchanged glances. It wasn't much, but her information might prove helpful.

Luke's tone was hopeful as he said, “There are a few cameras around there. With the time frame, we can narrow down who he might have come into contact with. It’s a start.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Working over?” Lonnie asked, seeing Bubba walk in the door.

Bubba admitted, “Yeah, Luann wanted the night off.” He grinned and added, “Think she’s got a hot date.”

Lonnie replied with a slight grin of his own, “Pretty soon, I’ll be the last single standing around here.”

Easing himself slowly onto the davenport across from Lonnie's desk, Bubba grumbled something about his own poor odds. Fresh from patrol, he still had his hat. He put it on and tipped it over his eyes. Arms crossed and slouched, he seemed intent on taking a cat nap.

Lonnie watched him quietly. He’d heard rumors, which wasn’t surprising since Sparta’s gossip HQ and the dispatcher’s desk were one and the same for forty some hours out of the week.

Parker had been fit to be tied when he’d heard about Tracy. Though Lonnie preferred to remain neutral, he was growing more and more tempted to join Parker’s side.

Lonnie, knowing that there were still cases to solve, finally said, “I’ve got something here I think you should see.”

He pulled out his personal laptop and flipped it open, giving Bubba time to pull a chair up to the desk. There was weariness to all of the big man's movements and when he sat down, he slouched forward with his elbows on Lonnie's desk.

With a few strokes across the trackpad and a couple of clicks of a button, Lonnie was playing surveillance video in slow motion.

Getting a puzzled look from Bubba, Lonnie admitted, “I just transferred the video to DVD and uploaded it. If we had better equipment I could have just....”

Bubba interrupted him, “You’re takin’ this stuff home ain’t ya.”

Not wanting a lecture, Lonnie said, “Just watch the screen.”

Bubba knew that telling Lonnie to stop working so hard would be like someone telling him the same thing. It would fall on deaf ears, so he merely watched.

After a few moments, Bubba had seen enough. His gaze met Lonnie's and it gleamed with an intensity that unsettled his friend.

Bubba growled, “Please tell me ya caught him doin’ somethin’.”

“No, but he’s at the right place at the right time to have been up to something.”

Lonnie clicked until the screen returned to a prime shot of Clark Randall paying a clerk at the liquor store for two bottles of something that couldn’t be made out without magnification.

“Note the time,” Lonnie stated.

The counter indicated a time of nearly nine o’clock in the evening.

Lonnie added, “Now watch what he does after he exits.”

Bubba eased back from Lonnie's desk and stated, “Takes off pretty good."

“In the right direction too. Out towards Lancaster’s place.” Lonnie stopped the video. “I wish we’d picked up on this sooner. All the evidence out there if there was any, is long gone.”

Bubba considered the possible implications and admitted, “Randall’s a pain in the rear, but he’s neva’ done anything to suggest he’s a cold blooded killa’.”

Lonnie wore an unusually dark expression as he nodded. It was a long stretch, but it’s all they had. Considering they weren’t even certain Toby was murdered, it was a very long stretch indeed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Christmas morning had come and gone. Calvin Peterson, who had arrived with his wife a few days before, had spent a good deal of the day setting up his grandson’s Christmas present.

Every plant and stone had to be just right. With a tiny adjustment to the lighting, Calvin pronounced the job well done and stood back to admire it. Billy did the same.

“I do believe that does it, William,” Calvin announced.

“Can we put ‘em in now?” Billy asked excitedly.

“I don’t see why not.”

Althea walked in to see Billy clammer off of a step stool. Spotting her, Billy exclaimed, “Come look, momma.”

“They seem quite content in there, don’t they,” Althea stated, looking down into an array of aquatic habitat.

“It’s great. It’s temperature controlled and everything.”

Althea knew all the details, she’d done the shopping for her parents. It was too late to order the deluxe terrarium and have it arrive for the holidays, so she’d gone searching for one.

Now she stood looking at it, remembering the horrors of the aquarium she’d had in college. She’d once arose in the morning to find it overrun with snails, like something out of a horror movie.

“Do frogs eat snails?” she asked worriedly.

“Bubba says....” Billy chattered on about what frogs would eat, thrilled with what Bubba had taught him.

Calvin leaned in and whispered to Althea. “That’s about the tenth _Bubba says_ I’ve heard out of that boy’s mouth.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba was a little startled when Ruth Peterson answered the door. He’d forgotten that Althea’s parents would be visiting for the holidays.

Ruth looked him up and down. “Bubba Skinner, you clean up pretty good.”

“Bein’ Christmas, figua’d I should be a bit presentable.” He fidgeted nervously with the collar of his white dress shirt.

“Stop that,” she teased, slapping his hand. “You look perfect.”

She was tickled, thinking he’d finally come courting. She’d started to worry that her and Calvin’s presence was keeping the two potential love birds apart.

Meanwhile, the twins couldn’t help their curiosity after hearing the door bell. They had come into the hall to investigate.

Sarah was the first to blurt something out after looking him over. “Where ya been, Bubba? Church?”

“Maybe a funeral!” Billy added excitedly, hoping it was true and some grisly and morbid tale came with it.

Then the little boy thought of something and scratched his head. “Do they bury people on Christmas?”

Ruth and Bubba shared a look. They honestly weren’t sure, neither having given it much thought before.

“Alright, you two. Shoo.” Ruth quickly added, “And tell your mother who’s here.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The twins clamored into a stuffed chair they insisted on sharing. There was the usual pushing and shoving and bickering, until they were comfortable. At which time Sarah saw fit to finally tell her mother who was at the door.

Billy added that Bubba was _all fancied up_.

Althea got up and announced that she just had to go see for herself. In truth, she didn’t want to see him at all, but she saw no other option. The sooner she dealt with him, the sooner she could be rid of him.

She tried to meander casually down the hall, but had the feeling she seemed anything but relaxed.

“You can let him in, mom,” Althea said, finding her mother boxing Bubba in at the entrance.

Ruth was appalled by her lack of manners and quickly let him pass.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Ruth asked him. “I’d have made you stand there all night.”

Turning to her daughter, Ruth explained, “He was telling me the most interesting story about this neighborhood. Very chilling.”

Althea smiled as her mother passed her in the hall. She still had that same smile as she admitted to Bubba, “Mom loves a good story. The more disturbing, the better.”

Though invited in, Bubba seemed reluctant to venture more than a few steps from the front door.

“What brings you by?” she asked, trying to sound genial.

While digging into the inner pocket of his blazer, he admitted, “I got ya somethin’.” He produced a small envelope. “It’s not much, but....”

She seemed to wilt as she accepted it.

“I didn’t get you anything,” she admitted shamefully. “I intended to, but... I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

He flashed a genuine smile. “Not necessary, ma’am.”

She suggested they go into the kitchen where she could open it. There she offered him something to eat and he refused. After offering him something to drink and getting another refusal, she decided she had done her best as hostess and sat down across from him at the kitchen table.

She said leerily, “I have a growing suspicion that this is more peace offering than Christmas present.”

“You’re good.”

She sighed with irritation. “I can’t accept it then. I won’t be bought off.” She pushed his offering across the table to him.

His hand was on hers in an instant. “Just take it. I’m not tryin’ to buy ya off.”

“Yes, you are. You think this will smooth things over and just like that, I’m supposed to accept this ridiculous thing you have going with Tracy. I’m sorry, Bubba. If it was any other woman, I’d wish you all the happiness in the world, but that woman....” She let her words trail off, as her anger intensified.

He squeezed her hand as she tried to pull it away. “Ma’am, hate her all ya want. I just don’t want ya hatin' me too.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’ve come pretty close this time, but I don’t hate you,” she muttered, her anger cooling.

“Sure?”  


“Yes, I’m sure.”

“So, we’re good?”

Her eyes flickered with mischief. “That depends on what you got me.”

In a flash, she had the envelope opened and was removing the contents. She read the two theater tickets aloud and then said, “Bubba, how did you know?”

“Called Virgil. He said you’d talked about it. Never been there myself.”

“I’ve been dying to go, but it’s just not something you go to alone.”

“I’ll be more than happy to take ya, if ya want.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Billy exclaimed excitedly, “You’re just in time, Bubba. They’re in the graveyard.”

Bubba only looked to Althea for assistance.

“A Christmas Carol... Scrooge... in the graveyard....”

“Ah.” Bubba had caught on and took up the spot next to Althea on the sofa.

He quickly realized that the story was a revised edition for children, but he enjoyed it anyway. He was certain that Calvin’s narrative abilities deserved most of the credit and he said as much when the story came to its uplifting conclusion.

Calvin admitted, “My girls loved their stories, so I got a lot of practice.”

Ruth interjected, “Oh yes, every night, like clockwork. You never saw such sad faces as when he had to work late.”

Bubba eyed Althea, enjoying a tiny glimpse into her past.

As expected with children present, talk quickly turned to food and Althea assured the twins that they’d both get plenty to eat. She looked to Bubba, her expression assured him that he was being fed, whether he wanted to eat or not.

Left alone with the rest of the Peterson tribe, Bubba suddenly felt out of place.

Ruth flashed him the smile that she seemed to keep in reserve only for him. It was friendly, but somehow unsettling. Calvin just eyed him, while the twins argued about who was going to get the better piece of ham.

Calvin finally broke the ice. Like most older men, he was blunt as he stated, “See you mended up alright.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Look a little peaked, though. Eat some red meat. Good for the iron.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Althea looked from the empty plate to Bubba, whose expression cried, _Did I do good?_

She flashed him a pleased smile, then collected the rest of the dirty dishes.

Bubba moved as if to assist her and Ruth stopped him, assuring that she’d help her daughter in the kitchen. “Talk to Calvin, so I don’t have to.” She winked and went on her way.

Calvin knew Ruth wanted them to make small talk, but that wasn’t what he was interested in. He quickly ordered the twins into the kitchen to help. He knew they’d be more trouble than anything else, but he didn’t want them listening in.

Bubba took note of it and expected something unpleasant to come up, he just wasn’t sure what it would be.

Calvin meandered into the living room to put even more distance between them and prying ears. Bubba followed and before they'd even sat down, Calvin stated abruptly, “You’ve probably already heard that Evans plead guilty to the arson and cut a deal."

“Figua’d he would,” Bubba replied coldly, before settling back heavily into the sofa. “At least he saved us all the trouble of testifin’.”

Bubba looked to the kitchen, thinking a deal was for the best. Althea didn’t need to face that man in a court room. She had faced enough monsters already. Bubba looked away, knowing that there were some places he couldn’t let his mind wander to.

“Two years and he’ll be a free man," Calvin warned.

Bubba shrugged and sighed heavily, “Yeah, but he wouldn’t have got much for the rest of it eitha’.”

Merrill Evans had never touched Althea and that’s all that mattered. Her fear and the chaos he brought to her life meant nothing to the system.

Calvin issued yet another warning, “Probation won’t keep a man like that away."

“I know," Bubba replied.

“So does she."

Bubba only sat quietly, trying to put himself in Althea’s place. The stakes were so much higher when you had two little ones depending on you.

“She’s keeping this all to herself.”

“I know that too,” Bubba admitted with a slight smile. He was impressed by her strength.

“She keeps a lot to herself these day,” Calvin added worriedly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Pearson finally arrived with apologizes that he’d been away for the holiday. Marissa eyed him with doubt, then conceded that he might actually be telling the truth. Not everyone had a dysfunctional family these days.

“Have there been any more murders?” she asked him.

He wasted no time opening his briefcase and removing a manila folder. He didn’t hand it directly to her. Instead, he placed it on a table nearby and put his hand flatly on it. “If you thought this thing was bizarre before, I’d like to know what you consider this?”

Pearson took his hand off the folder and gave it a push towards her.

As soon as she took it, he turned and walked across the room.

She was almost shrieking, as she said in shock, “They dug up his body?”

“You may recognize the location of the dump site in those photos. If you’d call it _dumping_.”

Marissa squinted at the photos, while he continued, “As you know, Blair’s wife now lives there alone... with some hired muscle for protection. Blair probably wouldn’t have called the cops, but she did. Can’t blame her.”

Marissa carefully closed the folder. She couldn’t take seeing Johnny’s corpse stretched out, all snug and warm, in Blair’s bed. She had a morbid version of the three bears go through her head. _And this bed is just right!_

Pearson continued, “Must have had one strong stomach. As you could tell, your friend was getting mighty juicy.”

Marissa swallowed hard to fight back the urge to gag.

“This make any sense to you?”

She turned away and took hold of the nearby table for support. With her head down, she said, “No. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”

“Anything close to it?”

She shook her head again.

“Think it’s connected to the murders?”

Feeling a little better, she looked up. Finally feeling stable enough to turn to him, she replied, “Most likely. Even though I can’t imagine this being retaliation.”

She felt bad saying it, but it was true, “Those men were bottom of the heap.” She shrugged. “Make it brutal enough, people will perk up and pay attention, but they won’t retaliate. Not like this. This took real effort and coordination.”

“If not retaliation, then what?”

Marissa stepped back as if she could distance herself from the case altogether. “You need a profiler for this sort of thing. This is beyond me. I think you either have a nut job on your hands or a vigilante.”

Though that conclusion took away from her theory that she was somehow involved, it made her feel no safer at all. She looked over with dread at something she thought she’d never see again. A new case file on Johnny Vegas. Even his corpse couldn’t stay out of trouble.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I feel like we’re grasping at straws,” Ken grumbled at Peake, before opening the door to the liquor store.

Peake only shrugged.

When the cashier caught sight of them, she stiffened. Cops in a liquor store usually meant trouble for someone.

Ken didn’t waste any time. He looked at one of the photos in his hand. The cashier seemed to be the same woman in the photo, unless there was another bleach blonde working there who had forgotten that it was no longer the eighties. He tried to keep a straight face as he realized her hair was even bigger in person than in the photo.

He shifted another photo to the top before asking the cashier, “You recognize this guy?”

Ken suppressed a shudder as her long press on nails screeched along the top of the counter. She finally mumbled, “Yeah, he comes in from time to time.”

“Ever talk to him?” Ken asked.

Meanwhile, Peake casually strolled around the store. His activities seemed to agitate the cashier and Ken had to tap on the counter to get her attention again. “Quicker you answer, the quicker we’ll be out of your hair, ma’am.”

He instantly wondered if that was a Freudian slip.

“Yeah, I talk to him.” She shrugged and added, “Think he’s gay.”

That got both officers' attention. It wasn’t what she said, but how bizarre the timing was for her to say it.

“He never gave me the time of day,” she snorted.

Ken tried hard to keep his expression neutral. If this woman flirted with him, he’d have pretended to be gay too.

She added, “Then he shows up with a hot little number and then I knew for sure.”

“Knew _what_ for sure?”

“That he was queer!” she sniped, as if it should have been obvious.

Trying to hold back an exasperated sigh, Ken inquired, “Tell me about this _hot little number_.”

She almost purred, “He didn’t come in. Stood out there, talking to somebody on his phone."

She moved suggestively and licked her lips as if she could almost taste him. “Had on this tight shirt....”

Ken looked to Peake. He needed rescued.

Peake said softly, pulling out his notepad, “That’s fine, ma’am. Tell us what he was wearin’.”

It took some time and a strong stomach to get all the details they needed.

Ken gave a massive sigh of relief as he hit the outside air. Then he commented, “They could bottle all the pheromones in there!”

XXXXXXXXXX

Ken laid the notes that Peake had taken on the detective’s desk. “Randall wasn’t alone.”

Lonnie scanned the description and quickly discerned that Randall had been seen with another man.

“Cashier couldn’t remember exactly which day he was there, but did remember that he bought two bottles instead of his usual single. She figured one was for his friend.”

Ken tossed the still photos on the desk. Randall was pictured on top, buying two bottles. “Seems cut and dry to me.”

“I’ll run this description past Parker, see if it clicks with him,” Lonnie replied. “Meanwhile, you and Peake can sit back and relax awhile.”

Ken’s expression darkened. “Not more tape,” he groaned.

“Better! Tape you’ve already seen!”

Ken grumbled as Lonnie handed him the first tape to look at.

“Look for that truck of Randall’s. Should be easy enough, we know when he was there. I’d like to get a look at this _friend_ of his.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Detective?” Peake called.

He continued to squint at one of several old monitors spread across a massive table in the station's Conference Room.

Lonnie knew what he was being summoned for and made his way through a maze of chairs, jumbled cables and file boxes.

He looked over Peake's shoulder and he could have sworn he knew the man on the screen.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Ken came over and took a peek. 

“Recognize the place?” Peake asked.

“By now, you'd think I would know every camera shot in town, but I don’t know this one.”

“It’s the gas station on Monroe.”

Perplexed, Lonnie muttered, “That’s the other side of town.”

“I see Randall there sometimes, when I stop.” Peake shrugged. “We already had this tape, so I thought I might get lucky."

He slid his chair aside to let Lonnie in for a closer inspection as he explained, "Randall pulled up with this fella’. He fits the clerk's description.”

Lonnie just frowned and shook his head.

“Not him?”

“No, Peake, I think you’re right. I just keep thinking I know this guy.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“I’ve got something for you, pretty girl,” Lonnie announced before even getting his keys out of the lock on his front door. He didn’t expect Caroline to rush to him like a loyal dog. She was too proud and aloof for that.

He went to the birdcage and exchanged her exhausted seed and treat block with a new one. He looked around, surveying her little corner of the house.

They were like the odd couple. He was neat and she was a total slob. Her cage, which was more of a multi winged mansion, was in disarray. He kept it clean, but she still insisted on yanking all her toys off the walls of the cage and throwing them everywhere. When she could, she mauled them to pieces.

Looking around on the floor, he realized he had vacuuming to do. He’d done the chore just before going to work, but the little bird had kicked grit and millet all over. He noticed that she had also taken to chewing on the potted plant he had sitting nearby.

He walked away, leaving the mess for later. He had to be thankful for small miracles. Caroline went to her cage to do most of her damage. She left the rest of the place alone. If she didn't, he would have had to actually cage her and most birds didn't thrive in cages. They only liked them as a safe place to hide and roost.

He popped open his laptop and scanned some files while eating a quick dinner fresh out of the microwave. The whole time, he could not shake the feeling that he knew Randall’s friend from somewhere.

He looked anxiously to the phone on the wall. Parker was scheduled to work late and wouldn’t see the video for another hour or so. He could only hope that when Parker eventually called, it would be with the good news that he recognized Randall's mysterious friend.

Dinner finished, Lonnie decided to not only vacuum, but find the culprit that had dirtied the place up. She’d been far too quiet.

After looking in all of her usual haunts, he started to get a little worried. He peered behind furniture and peeked onto high shelves. No bird.

He came to his bedroom closet and opened the two folding doors. He couldn’t imagine her getting inside through the closely spaced slats, but he decided to check anyway.

To his surprise, Caroline was perched on the storage unit that separated the closet in the middle. She was in the midst of viciously picking at the only tie that he owned and half way liked.

“Caroline!” he scolded.

She hopped and faced him defiantly, tie in beak.

“Give me that!”

Soon there was a tug of war between man and bird. He could have easily won, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

With the tie finally extracted, he chastised, “Bad bird!”

He let her go and she landed only a few feet away. There she ruffled her feathers as if horribly insulted.

“How did you get in there?”

Caroline hopped twice and flew away. She was headed to her cage to sulk.

Lonnie closed the closet doors and studied them. He was right, there was no way a bird could squeeze between the slats. She must have gotten inside when he opened the closet that morning as he got dressed.

He knew then that he was in trouble. He had locked her in the closet all day and she had taken it out on his tie. The tie would not be the end of it. She was a vindictive woman.

Heading back to his computer, he wondered what she could possibly destroy that he should put away for awhile. He didn’t dare lock her up in the cage, that made her even worse.

Stopping mid-stride, he thought about it. She couldn’t have been locked up _all_ day. She’d have had no opportunity to make the mess around her cage. Someone had opened his closet, letting her in.

He listened as he pulled his weapon from its holster. It was unlikely that the intruder was still there, especially after he had searched high and low for Caroline, but he still wasn't willing to take any chances.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lonnie had just finished his sweep of the house. Not only was it empty, but he found nothing out of place. He wasn’t surprised. There were very few places he hadn’t been over already, looking for the bird.

Just as he put his gun away, his phone rang and startled him. He took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. Parker was on the other end.

“Think I might know this guy, Lonnie. Can’t give you a name, but he’s staying out at the Dixie Lodge... if I’m right about who it is. He’s made quite an impression on a couple of the gals who work out there.”

“Good or bad?” Lonnie asked.

Parker laughed, “Well, Joann described him as _eye candy_.”

“Can Joann give us a name and room number for Mr. Eye Candy?”

Parker's tone was light-hearted, “I'll get right on that, Detective.”

“Parker?”

Busy scribbling notes at the dispatch desk, Parker only responded with, "Hm?"

“I think somebody was in my house.”

“You _think_?”

“That’s the problem, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Want us to come out?”

“No. If they were here for something other than robbing me, I think they’d have the sense to cover their tracks.”

“Lonnie, am I alone in thinking something odd is going on in this town?”

“No, Parker, you’re not alone.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Clark Randall tossed his coat over a kitchen chair and tugged at the tie around his neck. With it loosened, he ambled into his den and reached for a bottle of Scotch. He almost dropped the expensive bottle as someone greeted him from the doorway at his back.

Spinning around, he was prepared to use the bottle as a weapon if necessary. He took one look at who stood in the hallway and slammed the bottle back on the desk.

“Almost got your head taken off,” he growled.

“That would have been a very unwise move on your part, Clark,” the visitor stated coolly.

“Yes or no, you’d still be just as dead.” Agitated, Randall took a long swig straight from the bottle and capped it.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone drink Scotch that way.”

Randall sneered, "You need to get out more.”

A thoughtful pause followed and then Randall asked, “What do you want?”

Randall's visitor maintained his cool detachment. “A progress report.”

“Don’t any of you people have any patience?”

The visitor sighed, “What can I say? I’m addicted to instant gratification.”

Clark looked the man in the eye. “You know the deal.”

“The deal has changed.”

“That’s not how deals work,” Randall spat, approaching his uninvited guest.

The guest spread his hands in a passive gesture. “That’s the problem with dealing with unscrupulous people, they tend to be... _unscrupulous_.”

Randall aggressively combed his hair with his hands. “Three weeks.”

“That’s unacceptable.”

“Unacceptable?” Randall laughed. “I’m on the verge of owning this town and you can’t wait three weeks.”

“You do want paid, don’t you?”

Randall cooled at the mention of money and begrudgingly offered the man a drink.

The visitor recalled seeing the bottle go to Randall’s lips. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Isaac “Che Che” Chiaruttini heard a knock on his motel room door. He grabbed up his Taurus and quietly approached the door. He checked the peephole and recognized the individual on the other side.

Always leery, Che Che stepped well back from the door and invited his visitor in.

The man didn’t start in the least as Che Che lined the sights of the Taurus up with the bridge of his nose. On the contrary, he smiled and said, “Always prepared Mr. Chiaruttini. I like that.”

“My mother always told me, _Keep bad company, be prepared_ ,” Che Che replied.

“Good advice.” The visitor spread his arms in a sign of good will. “I only wish to speak with you. May I have a seat?”

Che Che eased off on the trigger, then abruptly let the weapon fall to along side his thigh. “Sure. Go ahead.”

The visitor didn’t speak, merely closed the door behind him and pulled a chair from beneath the room’s only window. He did everything with poise, even the simple act of sitting. He was obviously a man used to schmoozing in circles where appearance was everything.

“I’m surprised you’re talking to me and not....” Che Che deliberately cut himself off. Caution was a good habit to get into.

“I’ve spoken to him already.”

Che Che waited quietly for more to be said.

“Our mutual friend is certain that his plan will work. I am not so certain.”

“I happen to agree,” Che Che muttered. “The cops in this town aren’t lemmings. They won’t follow Gillespie’s replacement blindly.”

“That little errand I sent you on?”

“Jamison’s clean. His finances are legit. Nothing real seedy in his past. No skeletons in his closet.”

He couldn’t help but smirk as he remembered stuffing something else in the closest. _Damn that bird was pissy._

The visitor smoothed the crease in his trousers. In a stylish suit, he looked painfully out of place in the cheap motel room. “That’s a shame. I was hoping he would be eliminated by gentler means.”

“It sounds like you’re taking the helm.”

“I’m pressed for time. You answer to me now.”

With that said, Che Che’s visitor stood and rebuttoned his suit. “I warn you Mr. Chiaruttini, I play much harder ball than Mr. Randall does. You will be a busy man.”

The well dressed man smiled. “And you’ll be paid handsomely for your efforts.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Information from a vehicle registration greeted Lonnie when he arrived for work the next morning.

His shift just coming to an end, Parker immediately bustled in to give Lonnie all the details.

“Randall’s friend is clean as a whistle,” Parker said.

Lonnie held up the printout. “Take it this is him?”

“I thought the name he gave the motel clerk might be fake.” Parker shrugged. “But the motel records and his car in the lot match.”

“Isaac Chiaruttini,” Lonnie muttered thoughtfully.

He continued, “Maybe with a name, I can find out where I know him from.”

The detective was more certain than ever that he knew this man from somewhere. It was becoming more of a gut feeling.

“I can tell you where Randall knows him from.” Parker added, looking pleased with himself, “They served in the Army together.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Lonnie hit the rear doorbell then opened the screen door and poked his head inside “Anybody here?”

He knew there was or the door wouldn’t have been wide open. A bit of warm weather had rolled into Sparta and everyone was trying to enjoy it while it lasted.

Bubba stepped out of his living room with Knothead close at his heel. “Lonnie Jamison out and about in the sunshine? Would have never believed it till I saw it.”

Lonnie gave Knothead a thorough scratch behind the ear when the dog came over to check him out. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s business.”

Bubba gave his friend a stern look then gave up. “Well, wha'd'ya need there, Detective?”

The dog followed the two men back to the living room, eager to get more attention.

Lonnie paused long enough to take in the scene. He was glad to see it looked like his friend was just taking it easy. He hoped he wasn't about to stir something up and change that.

Lonnie finally dived in, “You’ve been over Randall’s personal files more than I have. I thought you might save me some time. Does the name Chiaruttini sound familiar to you?”

Bubba shook his head no, before dropping onto his couch. “Not a common name. Think I'd rememba' it... but I’ll go over it again and see.”

“Don’t ruin the last day of your weekend.”

“Why not? You are," Bubba teased.

Lonnie couldn't argue, so he pressed on with the business at hand. “Chiaruttini and Randall are old Army buddies. I want to know what they've been doing since then.”

Bubba replied, “Randall did a lot out there on the coast 'for he showed up here."

He was going to elaborate on Randall's activities, but Knothead interrupted his train of thought. The dog had hopped onto the couch earlier, but now he had squeezed himself under Bubba's arm like he was desperate for a hug. He stomped his way right into Bubba's lap. 

Knothead's eyes begged, _Pay attention to me._

“What’s with him?” Lonnie asked, amused by the dog’s odd behavior.

“Wish it was funny, Jamison, but I think he’s gettin’ a lil’....” His expression explained the rest.

A dog lover, Lonnie petted the old dog under his fading muzzle and asked, “Taken him to the vet?”

“Yeah, but he says he can’t find anything wrong with him, other than the usual old age.”

Bubba followed Lonnie's lead and petted the dog fondly. “He’s stayin’ awful close. Everywhere I go, there he is. Can’t even get him to go out anymore, except to do his business. He even started scratchin’ at my bedroom door. He’s never been allowed in there, but he just howls if I don’t let him in.”

Experienced with dogs, Lonnie knew sick dogs preferred solitude. "He probably got lonely while you were gone. He might think you're going to leave again. Dogs are smarter than we give them credit for."

"Com'on, Jamison," Bubba teased, "I call him Knothead for a reason. Just look at him."

He followed his own suggestion and peered into his dog's dark eyes. He wondered if there really was something going on in there. He got licked in the face for his trouble.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Well, find anything?” Lonnie asked Bubba as the later arrived for work.

A weak grin came to Bubba’s face as he dropped something on Lonnie’s desk. “I haven’t found any connections yet, but I gave somebody a call. Might be somethin’ useful in there.”

Lonnie glanced at the thick packet dumped on his desk. It looked very much like what Bubba had on Randall already and he knew where that had come from.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say to Bubba about Pat, but he knew better than to try. Bubba seemed set in his ways, keeping good women at bay, while letting women like Tracy walk all over him.

Bubba motioned to the paperwork he’d given Lonnie and chuckled. “She went a little ova’board.”

Lonnie scanned it all quickly. “I’d say”

The more he read, the more the creases at the bridge of his nose showed. “Cornering one of these guys would be dangerous enough, but the thought of them prowling around together....”

Lonnie looked back to Bubba. With a wave of guilt, he realized that he had grown so used to seeing Bubba pale and drained that he no longer took much notice. He warned, “Randall’s bad enough, Bubba, and we know he’s not fond of you. I think you should stay away from these two.”

Lonnie saw the usual spark come into Bubba’s eyes and he quickly tossed water on it. “I know I’m not the chief and I’m not your boss. I’m just your friend... and as your friend, I have to say... you’re looking pretty bad.”

“Well, Jamison, I see ya haven’t lost your knack for honesty,” Bubba replied flatly.

Lonnie didn't know what to think of his friend's response. It wasn't a denial. It wasn't an agreement. It was eerily neutral.

Bubba started to leave, but then added, “If ya need any of that folla’d up, let me know. This whole thing has Pat’s curiosity up. She'll help if she can.”

“Have you told her about our situation down here? Your situation?”

Bubba grimaced. “Not entirely and I’m not going to.”

“And we both know why,” Lonnie said with a knowing smirk.

He couldn’t shake the mental image of Pat showing up on Randall’s doorstep, with no other intention than kicking the man in the groin.

_I’d pay to see that,_ Lonnie thought, suppressing a rare snicker.

Meanwhile, Bubba just glared at him.

After so many years, Lonnie was still amazed sometimes by Bubba’s strange ways. The man would tolerate being told he looked bad, but don’t dare tell him a decent woman is interested in him.


	6. Chapter 6

Lonnie slammed a folder closed in frustration. He had found no other ties between Chiaruttini and Randall other than their military assignments. The investigation was going nowhere fast. The whole while, Lonnie was still being nagged by the feeling that he knew Chiaruttini from somewhere.

Using software, he had altered Chiaruttini’s appearance in every way he could imagine. None of the resulting images jogged Lonnie’s memory. In a last desperate attempt, he had Parker survey the results.

“Sorry, Lonnie,” Parker muttered, wishing he could be of more help.

Lonnie tapped keys, going through the results again. “Maybe I’m looking at the wrong thing.”

Parker pulled up a chair. He knew the chief would chunk him out for lingering away from his post, but he did it anyway. “Something about what he’s wearing maybe?”

Lonnie studied Chiaruttini’s clothing. Nothing came to him and he looked to Parker for any input he might have. Parker shrugged, also drawing a blank.

After a pregnant pause, Parker asked, “Has the chief told Harriet about our suspicions?”

"I don't know," Lonnie replied solemnly.

The detective was one of those fortunate men who grew better looking with age. Dressed casually, he looked assertive and fit In faded jeans, a white t-shirt and worn boots. There was a fine line between sexy and shabby and he seemed to know how to walk it.

He pushed away from his desk and stretched one long leg and then the other. Sparking his memory about Chiaruttini had now taken a backseat.

Everything they had on Randall and Chiaruttini was still circumstantial. They could merely be two men in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet it was a bit too coincidental that the nexus of it all was a sedan owned by a man that Randall had frequent contact with. That same man, Mayor Henry Bonifas, had been swayed against the department to Randall’s benefit.

Lonnie and Parker continued to share an uneasy silence until the laptop on Lonnie’s desk whirred to life. It saved its data and slipped into sleep mode.

Both men continued thinking similar thoughts. Bonifas was not entirely lost to the department. He could still be reasoned with. That was the reason that Harriet often placed herself between Randall and the mayor’s office. Unfortunately, that left the door open for things to get too personal.

Lonnie let out a slow deliberate breath before admitting, “The chief left the choice up to me. It’s my case... if you can call it that.”

Glancing at a now riveted Parker, Lonnie smirked faintly. “We’re upping the stakes.”

“Are you making this an official investigation?”

“Don’t have a choice. I want Toby’s body exhumed. Either the family will deny our request and we’ll need a case to back up a court order or they’ll agree and it’ll be all over town anyway.”

Lonnie tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desk. The smirk had returned. “We don’t have to tell them who we suspect.”

“If Randall gets wind of it and he really had a part in it....”

“We might just spook him into doing something stupid.” Lonnie leaned back in his chair, accentuating his long, lean physique. “And I intend to be watching when he does.”

Parker stood up, feeling the urge to move. “Bubba’ll have his hands full shuffling the schedule.”

They both knew that was an understatement. The holidays were always a scheduling nightmare, even without a crunch to provide surveillance.

Lonnie shifted his weight restlessly. It was hard to do, but he said, “I need you to ask for volunteers instead.”

Parker tried to be cheery, sensing Lonnie’s reluctance to ask. “The guys will jump at it. They always do.”

With no other acknowledgment than a grateful nod from Lonnie, Parker turned to leave. He hesitated at the door. “These guys are in the business of spotting the enemy.”

“I know. The chief and I have discussed that... at length,” Lonnie sighed.

“They’re trained to expect the unexpected.”

“True.”

“That leaves us the blatantly obvious....” Parker grinned. “And the absurd.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Randall’s sneaky, but I can’t see him going that far,” Harriet objected. She slipped off one dark dress shoe and then the other.

Bill didn’t take his eyes off the disassembled semi-auto strewn across his desk. “Jamison had suspicions that the theft was of a personal nature. Teenagers looking for a good time can find better prospects parked on the street.”

He looked through his bifocals and adjusted them slightly before inspecting the pistol’s empty magazine. “That model of Lexus isn’t a common choice for car thieves, especially in these parts. Someone wanted to get under Bonifas’ skin.”

With a downward tilt of his glasses and a smirk, Bill added, “We were beginning to suspect the mistress.”

Harriet was now rubbing her weary ankle. Rumors had flown in the past that Bonifas was having an affair, but Harriet and others close to him knew it was far from a mere rumor. “Did the two have a falling out?”

Bill took off his glasses and folded them closed slowly. “Bonifas refuses to admit that she even exists, so we can’t get any input from either of them on the matter.”

Harriet rolled her eyes. She knew how frustrating the whole thing must be to the department. Bonifas wanted severed heads served up on platters for not finding the perpetrator, yet he refused to be of any assistance.

She finally grinned mischievously and said, “I think I’ll be rather thirsty tomorrow.”

“Be careful around the water cooler, my dear, Randall may be a bit thirsty himself.”

She stood and leaned close to her husband’s ear. “I’ve learned to work around him.”

When her quick peck on the cheek didn’t get the desired result, she sighed, “But you still want me to be careful.”

Taking her hand in his, he studied her slender fingers. “Do not forget what he might be. This murder investigation may have no official number attached to it yet, but it’s open and moving forward.”

He kissed those same slender fingers and added, “Moving quickly enough that Randall may feel forced into doing something foolish. Very foolish.”

Harriet frowned and squeezed his hand. “If it’s true, he’s been doing a lot of foolish things.”

“Indeed.”

Their eyes met and Bill could read the acceptance in hers. She had not only accepted it as possible, she had accepted it as probable. It only made it harder for him to watch in silence as she walked away. Tomorrow would be another day for her, filled with fighting the good fight on his behalf.

He slipped his glasses back on and walked away from his desk. The pistol on his desk no longer interested him. He opened a large wooden chest tucked away in a corner of his den. He withdrew a bulky plastic case and eyed the small combination padlock that secured it. From memory, he rolled the small rings until it popped open.

After extracting the small caliber revolver inside, he loaded it. Bill knew that his wife would object to carrying it, but he wouldn’t accept no as an answer. She already had the necessary permit, obtained at his insistence.

He laid the revolver on his desk and went back to cleaning the larger caliber semi-auto. The revolver sat on his desk as a grim reminder that his wife had taken on many burdens to be just that, his wife. He struggled to use fingers that weren’t as nimble as they once were, while wondering why a bright and beautiful woman would want to spend her best years with an old man.

XXXXXXXXXX

With the cooler weather, Parker had the hardtop installed on his Jeep. He opened the back window to access the cramped cargo area. He slipped into the warm hunting gear he had stowed in the back and flung an old backpack over his shoulder.

Until now, the figure following him had been silent. “Better close that or Molly’ll be in there takin’ a nap when you get back.”

Parker looked to the ranch style’s front porch and eyed the beautiful Calico warming herself in a fading bit of late afternoon sun.

“Don’t even think it. She’s the best mouser I got.” The other man feigned distrust and closed the Jeep’s back hatch himself.

“I’d appreciate it if we just kept this between me and you.”

The other man just shrugged his shoulders. “Who would I tell?”

Knowing that was Dwight’s style of agreement, Parker started his short hike through the woods that shared Dwight’s property line.

Parker was a little leery of trespassing, but he couldn’t imagine someone actually catching him at it. Though still within the city limits, it was a secluded part of town. Mostly trees and undeveloped tracts along the back of the industrial park.

Breaking out of the wooded lot, Parker came face to face with the nearest leg of a massive metal structure. Looking up, he wondered if he was making a big mistake. _You’re the one who called the whole thing absurd_.

Already there, he decided to push on. Maintenance crews seemed to have little trouble climbing the industrial park’s water tower. How hard could it be?

A chain link fence surrounded the structure and he was not surprised to find the gate padlocked. He quickly tossed his pack over. Then he climbed the wobbly fence.

He dropped to the ground on the other side with an ugly grunt that he blamed on his age and a few extra pounds. 

A minute later, with the backpack cinched around his chest, he started his ascent. He stayed focused as he moved up the rungs. He knew it was easy to grow complacent as he climbed. It was a dangerous misstep waiting to happen.

Once to the top, he refrained from looking down. He moved quickly to secure himself to a sturdy part of the tower.

Settled, he looked around. Just like he had hoped for, he could see for miles.

With his best pair of binoculars in hand, he searched out his targets.

One of Clark Randall's vehicles was missing, but the residence had an attached garage.

Chiaruttini was much easier. His car was parked in the motel lot. Unfortunately, that was no guarantee he was there.

Parker smirked, feeling that one of the department’s chess pieces had moved one block closer to a checkmate. It was a battle, but they _were_ gaining. Slowly.

He muttered, “You boys just go about your business. Don’t mind me.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Harriet tucked her hair into a loose bun as she rolled her eyes at Bill’s offering. “I’m not carrying that.”

“It’s not a request.” He took her by the wrist and wouldn’t let go onto she’d allowed him to deposit the small revolver in the palm of her hand. “If you’re uncomfortable taking it into work, at least keep it in your glovebox.”

With her free hand, she closed her robe tightly around her neck as if suddenly chilled. “What good will this do me?”

If anything, it made her feel less secure. She could imagine a man with Randall’s training disarming her with ease.

“Most likely, it won’t _need_ to do you any good. That aside, until I have a better understanding of what’s going on in this town, I want you to keep it within reach. When you come in of an evening, have it with you.”

She shook her head, unable to believe how far things had gone. “Bill, this is ludicrous.”

A determined expression crossed her face as she shook her head all over again. “I’m not doing this. I’m not living in fear.”

As she moved to put the gun aside, Bill clamped his hands over hers. “Someone was inside Jamison’s house and Bubba’s beginning to suspect that someone is lurking around his place as well. Randall is not the only person I’m worried about you running into.”

A chill crept up her spine and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to crawl under the waiting covers of their bed. She wanted a stressful day to finally come to an end.

Sensing his wife’s alarm, Bill hastily retired to bed with her, wanting to be close. When he was finally comfortable with his arm tucked around her waist, he heard her ask, “What are you going to do about him?”

She’d fought hard to keep any accusation out of her voice. She knew the department was doing their best.

“Our options are few,” he muttered drowsily, “I’ve left the final decision up to Jamison.”

She shifted in his embrace. It wasn’t like him to give away the final say in anything related to the department, let alone such an important case. “Is there a reason why?”

“I won’t be around forever. It’s time they start standing on their own.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“You could have warned me,” Althea scolded into the receiver.

Her frustration showed as making her stitches took on more of a stabbing motion than necessary. Sarah’s pants required yet another patch.

The reply came, “He was trying to get out of the dog house. He wouldn’t have scored as many points if it wasn’t a surprise."

“Well, it made me feel like an ass,” she sighed as she adjusted the lump of denim on her lap.

“Guilt bonus,” Virgil replied in triumph.

“You’re not helping.”

“Fine. Next time, I’ll tell him to get you slipper socks.”

Silence filled the line as she rolled her eyes.

He knew her so well that he anticipated her reaction and said, “Slipper socks are a _very_ practical gift.”

“Thinking like that is why you’re still living alone,” she teased.

“It’s so odd that you should mention that,” he teased back.

She sighed, “Who is she and where did you meet her? No, wait. How old is she and what’s her bust size?”

“Always jumping to conclusions,” he reprimanded lightly. “This isn’t about _my_ single life, it’s about _yours_.”

She shifted the receiver from one shoulder to the other. She had learned from experience to just smile and endure as he made dating suggestions or observations. It wasn't about her. It was about the twins and the sort of man he wanted around his children. She couldn't really condemn him for that.

She mocked lightly, “Alright, who are you setting me up with?”

He replied, “Aren’t you taken already?”

Barely catching what her ex had said, she had no idea what the tone of the question was. She merely took it at face value and answered, “The closest thing I’ve had to a date is a creepy guy bumping into me at the post office.”

“You wouldn’t hold out on me would you?”

“I admit it, I was attracted to the creep at the post office. That’s how desperate I am.”

“So, no one?”

Growing tired of him dancing around such a touchy subject with apparently no point in sight, she sniped, “No. No one.”

Unbeknownst to his ex on the other end of the line, Virgil rummaged through his kitchen pantry for something quick to eat. Finding some chips of unknown age or origin, he tested one and found them a bit stale, but edible. He then sighed, “Maybe I’m the one who’s jumping to conclusions.”

“And what conclusion might that be?” she asked.

Even before she had finished asking the question, she had an answer come to her. She asked sharply, “Have you been talking to my mother?”

All she received in response was crunching noises as Virgil popped more chips into his mouth.

“Virgil, you know how she is when she gets things into her head.”

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

“And then he comes around and it only makes it worse.”

Crunch. Crunch.

“I told her he’s back with his ex.” With her sewing forgotten, she gestured wildly, sewing a haphazard pattern in the air.

She continued, “She tells me that he’s playing hard to get. A man... Bubba... playing hard to get. Have you ever heard anything so ludicrous in your life?”

Crunch.

“Stop eating and _say_ something.”

Virgil snorted, failing to choke back a guffaw. “I didn’t talk to your mom!”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba looked in the mirror and made a face. “Does this look alright?”

He tugged at the jacket he’d put on, certain that it wasn’t hanging right.

Parker replied from where he sat at the end of his bed. “Put on a few pounds and it’ll fit better.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Bubba looked at Parker via the mirror. It was tacked to the interior side of the closet door and looked older than both men put together. Bubba mumbled, “Always wanted to lose a few pounds.”

“Yeah, and I always wanted a full head of hair, but somethings just aren’t meant to be.”

Parker flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Plus, _a few pounds_ is more like twenty or thirty.”

He then laid perfectly still, weighing the silence. It didn’t have a good feel to it. He sat up to talk, only to swallow the words back down. How could you talk sense to a man who was sick, but not sick enough to care?

How much more blatant could the problem be? Bubba was there borrowing a jacket because none of his really fit anymore. How could Bubba be blind to the implications of that?

_Or maybe he’s not?_ Parker worried.

Bubba abruptly turned away from the full length mirror and said, “Scrawny or not, wha’d’ya think? Betta’ than casual, but not formal? Right?”

Something suddenly slid into place in Parker’s mind. _Oh, no_ , he groaned to himself.

He could suddenly imagine Bubba doing something stupid, like taking Tracy somewhere fancy and asking something he shouldn’t. Perhaps asking her to move back in.

The mere thought of it was too much. Parker groaned outwardly this time and rubbed his temple.

Bubba asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

Parker's blue eyes pleaded and he sounded like the mature one for a change, “Just don't take things too fast with Tracy. Don't do anything you'll regret tonight.”

“Not seein’ Tracy,” Bubba snorted. “And wha’d’ya mean....”

Parker blurted, “You’re not?”

“No.”

Bubba added reluctantly, working his shoulders as if the jacket were suddenly too small, “She’s not real happy with me right now.”

It took everything Parker had to not snap as he asked, “What’s she unhappy about now?”

Bubba didn't want to fan any flames. He replied blandly, “She’s got a touch of green in the eye.

Not hiding that he thought anyone would be better than Tracy, Parker asked hopefully, “Does she have a reason to be jealous?”

Bubba glanced over in mild surprise. It wasn’t the question he’d expected. He looked away to cover his uncertainty. “No, not at all.”

A huge grin was plastered across Parker’s face when Bubba dared to look at him again. Bubba didn’t have time to groan at the implications of that expression before Parker stated as fact, “You’ve been seein’ somebody else. Who is she?”

“There isn’t anybody else,” Bubba growled.

“Then who are you going out with?”

Bubba glanced at Parker as if he couldn’t believe he was wasting his breath to answer. “It’s not like that.”

“Then why are you dressed like that?”

Seeing no way to avoid stepping into it, Bubba finally admitted, “I told Ms. Tibbs I’d take her to Jackson.”

Parker didn't correct him about her name and he was grateful for that at least. He wasn't in the mood. Unfortunately, Parker hadn't corrected him because he was too pleased with himself, smirking.

Bubba stressed again, “It’s not like that. She just wanted to go up to that new theater they opened.”

He shrugged, feeling that he was losing the fight. “Ya know how much she likes that artsy stuff.”

Giving up entirely, Bubba asked softly, “Should I get her flowers?”

Trying not to look too pleased, Parker nodded and replied, “Definitely.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Any other day, Parker would have let someone else do it if the offer were made. Sitting hundreds of feet in the air, with your fanny half frozen to a metal grate was no way to spend one’s evening, but it wasn’t any other day. It was New Year’s Eve.

There was only one person he wanted to be with and without her, he’d worked himself into a mood of wanting nothing to do with anyone else.

He was filled with the same soul numbing loneliness that he’d experienced at Christmas. He asked himself the same questions. _Is she thinking of me? Has she found someone else?_

_Of course she’s found someone else_ , he thought sadly. He couldn’t imagine any man resisting those huge brown eyes.

In truth, all he could remember well these days were her eyes. They’d been etched into his memory after the one and only kiss they’d shared. Even as a kid, he had never fallen so hard and fast for a girl.

He had numbly watched her walk away and... He willed with everything he had for the phone in his pocket to vibrate against his chest, so he could hear her voice.

He rolled the dial on the binoculars, bringing things into focus. Meanwhile, he didn’t fight to dampen his rising desire to have her there and hold her close. It was a sick form of torture that he inflicted on himself often, as if he would become calloused to it with time. Eventually, it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

He had yet to decide what had come over him that day in Philadelphia, but it had to have been something. Even then, he had seen this inevitable loneliness coming. He had known it wouldn't work out between the two of them. Knew it couldn't work out, yet he had gone right along and so had she.

If he seemed too old to fall for a disastrous romance, she seemed far too savvy. That's what baffled him most. Something had to have come over both of them, because she was the sort to know better. He certainly thought she could do better too.

The three of them had saved the day, but at a tremendous price. Did the uncertainty of Bubba's survival leave him vulnerable?

Marissa _had_ made it easier. Without her, he’d have been alone in a strange city, waiting for what could have been some of the worst news of his life.

He shook his head at his rambling thoughts and went back to business. Worrying about how or why he fell in love seemed a wasted effort. The present was what needed his attention.

He found that Chiaruttini and Randall both seemed content to spend New Year’s Eve alone. So, Parker went back to killing time by thinking too much.

He knew giving up on Marissa was the sensible thing to do. _But it’s not the_ right _thing to do._

XXXXXXXXXX

“Those are some very pretty flowers,” Ruth teased.

Althea agreed with a thoughtful distance to her voice, “Yes, very pretty... I wonder what’s gotten into him."

The older woman commented, “I can think of a few possibilities.”

Althea searched the junk drawer for a pair of scissors, while Ruth went in search of a vase.

When Ruth returned, she went straight to the sink and began to fill the vase with water. Althea gave her mother a sideways glance as she snipped the tips off the flower's stems, hoping to keep the blooms fresh longer.

“We’ve discussed this,” Althea warned.

Althea had been adamant during that discussion that Bubba had done nothing wrong by going back to his ex-wife. She had also stressed that her only problem with the whole situation was Tracy herself.

Ruth didn't believe her daughter then and she wasn’t falling for the act she was witnessing now. She said defiantly, “I think he’s testing the waters.”

The younger woman scoffed, “Why? So he can drown himself?”

Her daughter’s defensiveness only fed Ruth’s certainty. She oozed motherly wisdom as she warned, “That might be exactly what happens if you don’t throw him a line.”

Althea began to arrange the flowers in the vase. They were beautiful and she knew there was nothing wrong with wanting to get them just right, but she felt guilty as she worked with them. Her mother would analyze every movement and every thoughtful pause.

Ruth finally blurted, “Are you being like this because he left _you_ splashing around?"

She let that question sink in before adding, "Men aren't mind readers. Bubba doesn't know what you want until you tell him what you want."

Unsure of what she wanted, Althea found it surprisingly easy to be cold and indifferent.

“He’s seeing someone else,” Althea retorted. “If he _is_ testing the water, he should be ashamed of himself. I don’t like Tracy, but there are just certain things a woman shouldn’t tolerate being done to another woman.”

Ruth asked smugly, “Are you going to go out there and send him home?”

“Of course not.”

“What about those unspoken rules between women?”

“That’s _if_ he was playing both sides and he’s not,” Althea replied coolly.

Ruth pushed the vase to the center of the kitchen table and made her daughter step back to look. “Those kind of flowers are _not_ platonic.”

Althea studied the delicate dark blue petals. _He’s not that way._

If there was only one man on the planet not that way, she thought it was him. Then the doubt came creeping in, followed by guilt. In a way, she was selling him short. Was she trying to claim that he was entirely devoid of passion and desire? Was he not capable of wanting something he couldn't or shouldn't have?

He had once told her she was passionate. She couldn't believe that he wasn't the same way with a reputation like his. There were just some lines he didn't cross, but it didn't mean he didn't think about it.

Could he be testing the waters? Was he just waiting for her to finally make up her mind?

Ruth spoke, breaking Althea’s train of thought, “Are you going to leave him waiting all night or are you going to get dressed?”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Which do you prefer?” Althea asked, holding up one dress, then another.

Bubba seemed more interested in holding up the doorway in which he leaned.

She cocked her head. “If you let me choose, we’ll be here all night. Enny, menny, minny, moe for all I care.”

“The beige,” he decided suddenly.

She put the charcoal dress back in the closet and quickly worked the other off its hanger. “Why the beige?”

With a sweet smile, he replied, “I ain’t tellin’.”

She scanned the dress cautiously, wondering what he was thinking. It was far from revealing. Giving up trying to figure him out, she told him it would only be a few minutes.

When she had been interrupted by a phone call earlier in the evening, she hadn’t expected it to be the head of the clinic and she certainly hadn’t expected to be on the phone for an hour. It had thrown her horribly off schedule.

As she moved to close the door to the master bathroom behind her, he said, “What? You think I’ll peek?”

She smiled as if she knew exactly what he’d do and gave the door one hard push. She soon yelled, “Make yourself useful. Find my earrings.”

After getting a location and description out of her, he flipped open the multi-tier jewelry box on her dresser. All the space for stud earrings was filled and more had spilled over into other compartments.

She apparently didn't hold a grudge against hoops and dangling styles of all sorts. They were present in tangled piles too.

He dug around and chuckled to himself. _S’pose everybody gets to have at least one vise._

“Think we’ll make it in time?” she asked through the door.

He called back, “That’s what the pedal on the right is for.”

Spotting a tiny green stone, he retrieved it and set to work finding its mate. The two baubles were quickly reunited and he closed the box in triumph. Leaning on it, he studied the pair and hoped they were indeed the green ones she wanted. Green seemed a strange match to beige.

Althea’s dresser was backed by a large mirror and he couldn’t help but catch his own reflection. The mirror reminded him of the one Tracy had kept so cluttered while they were still together.

_Still together_ , he mocked to himself, looking down at the earrings in his palm. They had never been a good match. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it sooner and saved himself a lot of grief. She had been so focused on trying to change him, he should have known she didn't love him. If you like something the way it is, you don't try to change it.

Though seemingly calm now, with Tracy somewhat out of the picture, he knew his life was still hurtling out of control. The harder he fought to reign it in, the tighter the tailspin became. The crash and burn was coming, he could feel it. It was the same feeling he had when Tracy had left him for the first time.

“Are you hinting that you occasionally break the speed limit?” she inquired.

He’d been so deep in thought, he hadn’t heard her emerge from the bathroom.

“Occasionally,” he replied with a slight smirk.

He suddenly remembered what he held in his hand. “Found ‘em.”

She took the offered baubles and slipped them in with no effort at all.

“Well?” she asked as she did a quick turn.

The dress hugged her lean frame. With very short sleeves, her lanky arms were exposed. She was a tad too thin, but she had an athletic look that kept it from detracting from her beauty.  She merely looked like a fervent runner.  


Bubba took her in with his eyes and concluded, “Very nice.”  


Unbeknownst to her, he had chosen the dress because it had a slit up the side. Nothing flashy, but if he got lucky, he might get a glimpse at her knee.

He was a leg man and he had yet to get a good look at hers. Tall women tended to lean to one extreme or the other. They could have great legs or be cursed with bad knees. He had always harbored an innocent curiosity as to whether she had been blessed or not.

She interrupted his thoughts by saying, “Give me one more minute.”

While she tugged a shoe box off the shelf in her closest, Bubba plucked a sole photograph from her dresser mirror. It had been tucked into the seam along the mirror’s edge. Though he was in it, he had no idea where or when it had been taken.

After coming up with her shoes, Althea leaned on him to slip them on. “Nida gave me that.”

He looked at her as if he didn’t entirely believe her. Nida Cromwell didn’t just give _anything_ away. Though well liked around Sparta, the woman was also one of the community kooks. Often speaking of omens and premonitions and fate. Bubba suspected that Parker’s peculiar ideas often started with Nida.

“She never told me where she took it.” Althea shrugged and added solemnly, “Must have been after my time.”

Now curious himself, he flipped the photograph over, though he’d already done so once. The back was just as blank as it had been. He finally gave a shrug of his own. “Parka’ might know. I can ask him.”

Not only was Parker Williams’ memory razor sharp, especially for local events, but he was also in the photo.

Bubba only received a nervous glance, so he said, “You don’t want me to ask?”

The last thing Althea wanted was for him to know why she had kept the photo. After seeing him shoot down one after another of Parker’s theories over the years, she knew he could be a harsh skeptic. How could she ever explain that her daughter could sometimes predict things and that she had done just that with the photo he held in his hand.

She plucked the photograph gently from his grasp. “I don’t want to know. Takes away the mystery.”

He watched her slip it back into the mirror’s corner seam before she turned and asked, “Ready?”

Bubba’s attention was drawn to the two tiny splashes of color in her ears, so brilliant compared to the brown tones of her skin and dress. Now he understood why she choose them. He hoped that answers to the mysterious photograph would show themselves with time too. Or did he?

If he discovered the photograph’s origin, he might also find out why she kept it. The whispered suspicions in his head were becoming so enticing that he didn’t want to risk proving them wrong, but he had to be mistaken.

A woman like Althea Peterson was too smart and sophisticated to waste her time with a man like him... and too beautiful.  
XXXXXXXXXX

Being a good walking distance from the parking garage, the two had exhausted their critique of the show before they had made it halfway.

“What now, Coach?”

“Well, your daddy gave me strict instructions to show ya a good time.” He grinned. “Not _too_ good though.”

She wrapped her arm around his. “Did he really say that?”

“I think he wants ya to get out more.”

“After the insanity of the past few months, I’ve enjoyed just being a home body,” she sighed.

Bubba rubbed his neck, warning her that he was about to broach something he didn’t want to. “Your daddy seems a bit worried ‘bout ya. Should he be?”

Althea was suddenly studying his face intensely. “Why do you ask that?”

“We got to talkin’ ‘bout Evans. One thing led to anotha’.”

“My father is just over protective... and stubborn. He won’t believe me when I tell him I’m fine.”

“Then I guess I’m stubborn too, cause I don’t believe ya eitha’,” he admitted lightly.

“What about over protective?”

“I’m that too.”

She gave him a fond sidelong glance. “You and my father are a lot alike... in more ways than that.”

“That a good thing?”

“Good. _Very_ good.”

Bubba didn’t respond. He only allowed himself to savor the compliment, instead of pushing it away as he usually would. All night, he had been taking in her slight, sometimes hinted praises. After doing so, he was finding that he rather liked it.

She tightened the hold she had on his arm. He let himself like that too.

Finally, Althea spoke, “I think about Evans. Anyone would. He _could_ be dangerous... but that’s not _all_ I think about. I’m not bordering on terror or anything. I have... a healthy respect for what he is.”

He believed her and that acceptance brought an incredible relief. If she had been afraid, truly afraid, in a way that he couldn’t fix... He really didn’t know how he could live with that.

He could suddenly feel the weight of his service revolver against his lower back. It reminded him of plans his brain had churned out during dark desperate hours of the night. The reason it stayed in the dark hours and never saw the light of day was next to him, depending on him. He was no use to her locked up in a penitentiary.

He couldn't imagine anyone missing Evans if he suddenly fell off the face of the earth.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba unlocked the passenger side door first, then held it open for his pseudo-date. No matter how much it felt like the real deal, they were not dating. He kept reminding himself of that, though it had started to feel a bit unhealthy to do it so damn much a good while back.

For a woman in a full length dress, Althea managed to get up into the cab of the truck with an amazing amount of grace.

Catching the smile on his face, Althea eyed him curiously.

“You and this truck clash a bit, ma’am.”

“So do we, but I tolerate you anyway.”

He only shook his head and slammed the door. The last thing he wanted was it getting stuck in a barely latched position. Having her fight to get it closed at every stop from here to Sparta would not be a good way to finish out the evening.

The evening hadn’t turned into a disaster yet and he wanted to keep it that way. The show had been awful, but in an amusing way. They had spent most of the performance with their heads together poking light-hearted fun at everyone and everything on stage. The audience wasn’t entirely immune either. They made a game of picking out the most pitiful of the saps who had been dragged along by their wives or girlfriends and created back stories that explained how they had ended up there.

He decided then that he hadn’t just survived the evening, but had actually enjoyed it. Most of the other men had slept through the performance and he didn't. Surely, that counted for something.

Unfortunately, he forgot to knock on wood. He yanked on the driver side door and the dome light popped on as it always did. The light was harsher in the cab than in the theater or in the parking garage.

He only saw it for a moment, but he didn’t doubt his eyes. He clamored in and startled her by tilting her chin away from him a bit roughly. “What the hell happened to your neck?”

She jerked away from his touch, trying to stick with her rehearsed act. “It’s nothing,” she assured firmly.

Sadly, she had been sitting there, thinking she had nothing but the home stretch ahead of her and she’d be free and clear.

“Will ya stop movin’ around,” he ordered gently. “Somebody do this to you?”

She was speechless, not expecting him to not know what he was looking at. She finally muttered, “Of course someone did it. You can’t do that to yourself.”

“Who did it?” he growled.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, which was all she could muster with how he had her head tilted.

“Bubba, it’s not a big deal,” she said gently, trying to diffuse the situation.

As it stood, she didn’t even know what the situation really was. His anger, if of the jealous variety, was the hottest she had ever witnessed. It wasn’t flattering, but frightening, and that wasn’t like him. She could only conclude that it wasn’t jealousy. He still didn’t know what he was looking at. “Bubba, it’s not what you think.”

“First, it’s not a big deal. Now, it’s not what I think.”

He yanked her chin back the other way and swept her hair aside. He found that side of her neck as sleek and flawless as ever, which wasn't what he was expecting. His mind worked the information and he slowly tilted her chin back the other way.

He easily matched a finger up to each fading bruise and didn’t feel quite so foolish, but he still had plenty of the emotion to spare.

The pattern _was_ a good match to a man’s grip, but with no matching mark on the other side, it was pretty obvious to him now what he was looking at.

He turned and dropped heavily behind the wheel. “Next time a guy goes suckin’ on your neck, tell him to be a lil' more careful ‘bout what it looks like when he’s done.”


	7. Chapter 7

Althea lost herself in the passing scenery. She often compared the open highway to the flow of time itself. Past, present and future. It was more pronounced at night.

Like looking into the future, she could only see so far ahead. Anything could be waiting for her out there, good or bad. While in the present, she grew tired of the monotony of the drive and the monotony of life. Behind her were burgs she knew only a little better for having passed through them. They were like the past, full of side streets not taken.

Everyone had a life dotted with opportunities unexplored and questions unanswered. Althea, like so many others, had a long list of things she would do if someone dropped a time machine into her lap. A long list of moments she would revisit and live differently.

In the oppressive silence of the truck’s cab, there was one moment that stood out at the top of her list.

She had been there before, traveling that very stretch of road. Then, like now, she had been thinking about a possible future with Bubba. She regretted not giving it a shot back then. She couldn't imagine the outcome being any worse than what she was facing now. 

She broke the silence, “I tried to get back on the dating horse... and it kicked me in the teeth.”

Bubba switched off, driving with his left hand instead of his right. “I kinda’ figua’d you’d have told me by now if...”

“He was still around?” Althea boldly inserted for him. “You’re right... he's long gone.”

Bubba remained silent. He wasn’t about to interrupt her. He was waiting to find out if he needed to hurt someone.

She explained, “He was in line behind me at the post office and... well, you know Mrs. Amstutz. She was paying in nickels and dimes, so he and I started to talk..."

She shrugged. “He seemed nice, so I agreed to go out with him.”

In truth, it had been more about bad timing than genuine interest. She had wanted to show Bubba that she wasn’t going to wait around for him. Show him that she wasn’t willing to take Tracy’s left over scraps.

“Playa’?” Bubba asked, already knowing the answer.

She had to smile. The term seemed strange coming from him, yet he had hit the nail on the head. "Definitely a player.... and he's good. He _almost_ fooled me.”

She regretted her choice of words. He had _almost_ had her in more ways than one. The marks on her neck were not only a dismal reminder of going too far, but a sign of how desperate she had become. Love bites were crude and something she would have never allowed before.

She peered out the passenger side window at what appeared to be a rock quarry. Lights blazed, but no one appeared to be working over the holiday. Meanwhile, her mind wandered. She had only herself to blame for pulling such a childish stunt.

If she had really wanted to alienate Bubba by getting involved with another man, why was she being so honest now? Why not just lie and say she'd had a marvelous time with someone else? If this new guy was long gone, why not just tell Bubba she'd had her fun with the stranger and moved on?

She knew why, because she cared what Bubba thought of her and she feared his opinion of her was low enough right now without making it worse.

Silence settled between them again. Light traffic along the highway had them making good time back to Sparta. The big block under the hood growled steadily. Just like he had once told her, the truck looked rough, but it ran well.

Meanwhile, Bubba was lost in his own thoughts. _Almost_ said a lot, yet not enough. It was torture for Bubba not to pry.

It was easy to trust her to look after herself _most_ of the time. She was resourceful and smart. It was far harder to be sure of the trust she had in him. Did she need him now and not have the confidence in him necessary to ask for his help?

Bubba stole a peek at her, thinking, _She’s always had more faith in ya than ya deserve._

He only wished that he could be sure that she had enough faith in him to ask for his help if she needed it.

Althea admitted, “I think I’ll leave the dating game to braver souls for awhile.”

“Don’t say that,” Bubba chided.

Letting some of his exasperation show, he admitted, “You're a fine woman. You could have your choice. Just take your pick.”

Althea replied defensively, “I could tell you the same thing.”

He could still turn the heads of women half his age. If anyone had free choice, it was him.

“Ma’am, this isn’t about me.”

Althea bit her tongue. It was _all_ about him.

He noted her silence. He always worried when the talkative beauty went quiet on him. He asked her softly, “You gonna’ be alright?”

She deliberately turned away from him and gazed out the window. He cared about her just enough to keep pulling her heart strings. She couldn't take much more. He was perpetually pulling her in, only to push her away.

Bubba deciphered the silence. She was angry, so he apologized as best he could. “I’m sorry if I came across wrong or if ya think I'm stickin' my nose in, but it’s just that I hate to see ya like this.”

He added fondly, “You _are_ a fine woman. If ya don’t wanna be alone, ya don't hafta' be."

“What do you intend to do, Bubba?”

He had to remind himself to keep the truck between the lines. Yellow spots blinking by on the left. A white scar of fading paint passing on the right.

All night, in the back of his mind, was that nagging suspicion. Every time she touched him, he wondered. Every time she looked at him a certain way, he wondered.

“In this new year ahead?” she added calmly, finishing a harmless question she wanted to use to change the subject.

Both relieved and a little disappointed, he admitted, “Don’t know, ma’am. Haven’t thought on it much.”

Watching a sign come and go that announced they were finally entering the Sparta city limits, she replied distantly, “Me, I think I’ll just take things one day at a time.”

 _I could do without getting ahead of myself again_ , she thought.

She studied houses as the truck slowed to met the posted speed limit. None of them had signs out front suggesting that they were for sale. She decided then that house hunting was the distraction she needed. She would focus her efforts there for the time being. When she had her little family moved into a place they could really call home, she would start thinking about matters of the heart again.

Bubba finally drawled, “I hope the new year’s kinda’ to ya than the last, ma’am.”

Aware that the previous year had been just as tumultuous for him, she replied in kind.

Bubba then asked, “Still a good choice? Comin’ back here?”

When she looked over at him, he added, “I told ya things would work out... but I s'pose they haven’t.”

Althea stated solemnly, “You’re probably not so impressed with me now that I can’t get my life put back together.”

Bubba was taken aback, surprised she remembered that part of their previous conversation. He had been impressed by her strength and perseverance and had said so.

She noted his reaction. Smiling weakly, she replied, “I have a good memory.”

“I’m still impressed... and I still have total faith in ya... and I’m still glad ya came back.”

He looked to her, finding that it was her turn to be wide eyed. He teased, “My memory’s not all that bad eitha’.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Virgil Tibbs was surrounded by cardboard boxes, some sealed shut and others not. He had lost interest in packing the rest of his things, so he grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume on his television set.

He dropped onto his sofa and gave the news segment his full attention. He had stayed on Blair’s case like, as his kids would put it, stink on a purple butted monkey. The media wasn’t making it difficult to keep up. They were having a field day with the case, especially now, with the macabre events of late. They seemed unwilling to let the Vegas fiasco be buried with his corpse, for a second time.

He watched as an attractive Hispanic woman spoke into a microphone, with the classic on location scene backdrop. She used all the usual news speak. Alleged. Sources. Documents. Witnesses. Departments.

When things moved onto yet another expose on how french fries kill, Virgil clicked the set off. The hour was late, yet it was the perfect time to call one of his own sources.

His source was actually supposed to call him, but it never hurt to drop a reminder.

When the other end of the line was picked up, pleasantries were exchanged and Virgil quickly cut to the chase. “Any word?”

“They’ve opted to have a warm body for the jury to look at. The prosecution is wrapping things up, it’ll have to be soon,” came the reply.

Virgil leaned forward, his emotions trying to go two directions at once. It was the best and the worst news possible. “How hard will it be to get in?”

“That’s the real scary part. They’re not locking the place down.”

Virgil sucked in a sharp breath.

“They intend to send a message. _We’re not afraid of organized crime_.”

“Of course not,” Virgil muttered, “They’re not the worm on the hook.”

“I can get your boy in to see the proceedings, but behind the scenes is all up to the Feds. If they’re in the mood to be pricks, I don’t know if I can do much better. This girl is their darling.”

“Meal ticket is more like it.”

“A lot of promotions to be had. That alone is all that’s probably kept her alive this long.”

Virgil offered up his last question, “How much heads-up will you have?”

“No idea, but I’ll keep you on speed dial.”

Virgil gave him his new work number in Mississippi, just in case.

“You’re a better man than I am. I sure as hell wouldn’t follow a woman around.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Althea had gone ahead of him up the porch steps, her way lighted by a weak bulb next to the front door. The glass of the carriage light enclosure for the bulb was cracked, casting spider web like shadows across the porch. Bubba hesitated at the bottom, striking a casual pose against the end post of the porch railing. 

The porch needed more than just a fresh coat of paint. The front door needed paint too, and half of the molding around it was missing. Duct tape was holding together several panes of glass in one of the front windows.

Elegant, and as far as he was concerned, perfect from head to heels, Althea looked out of place. For such a short walk, she had merely draped her coat around her shoulders. Holding it closed tight against the chill, one might have thought she was unsure of her lack luster surroundings. 

He knew she would move on from this place to something bigger and better, but now he had his doubts that she would move on to someone worthy of her affections.

Like the carriage light, little cracks were zigzagging across Bubba's resolve, weakening it and casting shadows of doubt. Her latest foray into dating had obviously been a disaster. All he saw now was her slipping deeper into loneliness and regret. He knew he wasn't the best apple in the bushel basket, but he was certainly better than the last dope she had been with. He might be a little bruised, but he wasn't rotten.

Not so sure anymore of what he wanted to happen, he needed time to think on things. Not wanting to fall into a conversation he couldn't handle right now, he commented dryly, “Well, I managed to get ya home in one piece, ma'am. I'll get goin'."

Everything else that came to mind was something he just wasn't ready to say yet. Though he wasn't an expert on communicating like she was, even he knew that he had come to the root of not just his problem, but their problem. A lot of things were going unsaid.

He decided then and there to think about that too, because whatever was beginning to happen couldn't continue like this. Hurting himself was one thing, but it was becoming clear that he was beginning to hurt her too.  


Meanwhile, Althea was considering her new course, which was to buckle down and just focus on her own family for awhile. Focus on her new job. Focus on finding a house.

The course she had been on was obviously not working. She had given him space, then even went as far as to give up on him. Neither had worked. She was tempted to fall back on what she was good at, which was being blunt. _What is this, Coach?_ _Just tell me_ _,_ _because I'm tired._ She corrected, _No, I'm exhausted._

Her weary thoughts couldn't have fit the moment more perfectly. It was late and growing colder as the wind had picked up. The street was quiet. Dark too, except for security lights mounted over garage doors and a few porch lights blazing, like hers. Apparently, all the parties to ring in the new year were somewhere else this time around. 

She said, "I _did_ have a nice time, Bubba. Thank you."

Looking genuinely pleased, Bubba replied, "I'm glad to hear that, ma'am."

She gazed down on him, still clutching her coat tight, looking cold. “You can stay and ring in the new year with us. I warn you, we’re a boring bunch.”

He managed another weak smile. “No, ma'am. Thank ya, but I really should go."

“You’re not going out to booze it up are you?” she asked with a hint of humor.

There was a hint of genuine worry there too. She couldn't shake her concerns about the shooting and the damage it had inflicted. He seemed stalled in his recovery. Not getting worse, but not getting better either. Still too pale and too thin. Drinking was the last thing he should be doing. 

“Nah," he assured with his charming drawl, "I’ve gotten into enough trouble doin’ that.”

Using Tracy had felt satisfying for awhile, but now it just felt wrong. He wished he could take it back. That relationship was definitely over, if one could even call it a relationship.

Stepping down towards him to emphasize things, she ordered, “Well, if you insist on leaving... go home and eat something!”

He placed a hand to his lean belly and warned softly, "Sayin' I'm too skinny? You can hurt a guy’s feelin’s sayin’ things like that.”

He had shed Parker's jacket and now wore his own heavy navy coat instead. It was open, allowing her to straighten the collar of his dress shirt. She grasped his coat in the front and tugged that straight as well. “You worry a girl when you don’t eat.”

As her hands lingered on his chest, her real concern continued to build. If anything, it was time to ask the hard questions because there were obviously a lot of things going on with him beyond just _them_.

Before she could speak, he eased back just enough to break away from her touch. “Well, I’m goin’. It’s cold out here and you’re wearin’ close to nothin’.”

He had sounded casual enough, but she knew better. He had sensed danger coming and was alert at the watering hole, eyes and ears scanning for the illusive predator that wanted to corner him. Once cornered, he wouldn't be eaten. Worse. He would be made to talk about his feelings.

Like whistling past the graveyard, he kept talking, “Ya probably thought ya left all this cold weatha’ back home.”

“I’ve been wondering if it followed me here,” she admitted sadly.

The weather wasn't the big disappointment. It was that she had to leave it like this. She could read the signs and knew not to pursue him any further. Maybe later, but not now, so she asked innocently, "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

He had decided earlier to check on Parker and had shared his plans with her and why. It made for a good excuse now. "I really should check up on Parka'. He's been in a mood."

Feeling free and clear, he dared to lean close to her ear and whisper, “Happy New Year.”

She turned to insist one last time that he stay, not knowing that he intended to kiss her cheek. Misinterpreting her move, he grazed her lips instead.

It was an innocent kiss. Quick and chaste, to celebrate the new year a bit early, so he was unnerved by the startled expression on her face when he pulled away.

Coming to her senses, Althea admitted with an embarrassed laugh, “I wasn't expecting that.”

“I’m ugly enough at a distance,” he admitted with a chuckle of his own. “Up close... well, I’d be startled too.”

Her expression said she wasn't about to agree with him. Hot with embarrassment, she just wanted to fix everything. Without a second thought, she said, "Happy New Year, Bubba," and kissed him, not giving him a chance to argue. She owed him a do-over.

XXXXXXXXXX

A well dressed man rapped lightly on the door to a hotel suite. What he lacked in the face was made up for with an unearthly shade of hazel eyes.

He scanned the hallway with those hazel eyes out of habit, not necessity. A hotel in Jackson, Mississippi was far safer than the places he usually found himself in.

The door opened before him and he was ushered in by a petite oriental girl. Her submissive demeanor hinted at her origins, likely somewhere outside the U.S. He had learned long ago not to ask and not to care. Most human beings were disposable.

He was greeted by a familiar voice. It belonged to someone rich enough to be indispensable among six billion throwaways. “Happy New Year, Chandler.”

“Thank you, sir, and a happy new year to you.”

Knowing his employer was quick to anger over silly formalities, Chandler Compton made himself comfortable before being asked to do so. A disapproving grimace marred his face as he moved to sit in a chair. It looked more worn than was acceptable considering the reputation of the hotel.

“Well, Chandler, how are things in Sparta?”

The older man’s tone never hinted at the gravity of the situation. He sounded like an old friend inquiring about no more than the weather.

Chandler eased back into his chair and contemplated a response. “Councilman Randall is beginning to grate on my nerves.”

“Are you still pleased with Chiaruttini’s performance?”

Smirking slightly at the stark contrast between the duo, respecting one and hating the other, Chandler admitted, “He’s impressive.”

The older man removed his wire rimmed glasses and pushed salt and pepper hair out of his eyes. “He reminds me of you.”

Hair tamed, the glasses went back on hastily. “That’s why I’m confident that we’ll see this through to the end.”

Chandler took the compliment to heart and hoped that none of them would disappoint. So far, the brutish Randall was their weak link.

“Come with us, Chandler,” the older man insisted, pleading in a way that was obviously out of the norm for him.

It was a request that Chandler had heard many times and he found himself rejecting it once more. Standing, he admitted lightly, “I like my camels in zoos, my women uncovered and both my hands attached.”

With that said, the younger man took his leave. He walked away with a burning question. Why would a man who had spent six years in a Turkish prison want to go back to the East? He could think of far better places to hide.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba combed his hair with his fingers. He checked each illuminated window along the length of the porch, fearful he would find the silhouettes of two fascinated little faces staring back at him.

He finally looked to Althea. She had retreated from him, scrambling up the steps and putting a good portion of the porch between them. As if she could feel his eyes on her, she met his gaze for just a moment and then turned her back to him. She frantically slipped into her coat as if she had been caught naked.

Bubba glanced around again. Unable to think of anything else to say, he just muttered to himself, “Damn.”

The intense moment between them had been enjoyable, but the passionate kiss had started to turn into a lot more than what he thought was appropriate for everyone in the neighborhood to see. He had sought out her hands and gently removed them from places they had never been before.

That's when realization had dawned in her eyes and she had tucked tail and run, leaving him standing there feeling inept and most of all, disappointed. He didn't want her to stop, he just wanted her to slow down.

“It’s official,” Althea finally confessed, “I’m one of those _easy_ divorced moms. I'd see them at school and at work and tell myself that I was _not_ going to end up like that... and here I am! Making out in front of the whole neighborhood!”

Coming up onto the porch and working to tuck part of his shirt back in, Bubba chastised softly, “Don’t say that.”

He dared a sheepish grin. "Don't think anybody's 'round anyway."

She ignored him, too angry with herself to care what he had to say. She groaned as the worst of it sunk in, “You’re not even _available_ _._ My mother was right. I should have listened. _"_

Pacing anxiously, she rubbed at her temple. _So much for taking the moral high road_ , she thought bitterly. _What the hell am I doing?_

Her hand slid from her brow to her lips, as if she could still feel him there. _What the hell is_ he _doing?_

Meanwhile, Bubba had closed his eyes and was thinking of Tracy. Soon he was thinking more about what Althea must be thinking about Tracy. What he really had with his ex-wife was not what everyone else observed from the outside.

Of course, he had only himself to blame for them seeing that. That image was exactly what he had wanted, until now.

Avoiding Althea’s gaze, Bubba turned and leaned his weight against the porch railing. The house was aging, but had the sturdiness that only old construction could claim. The place would continue to look bad for decades, but still stand, fighting the elements until the bitter end.

He pondered his options and knew he couldn't stand nearly as long at the old house. His options weren't just few, there was just one.

He considered himself dense, but even he knew that a woman had to feel a certain way to kiss a man the way Althea had kissed him. If she felt something for him that strongly, he knew what he had to do.

He knew he couldn’t say no to her. He had been trying for a long time, yet here he was.

He didn't look at her. Instead, he looked out onto the row of houses across the street. Behind those houses was another quiet street. Beyond that street, another. All of them making up a little town where he had done a lot of foolish things that he wished he could take back. She deserved better.

"Ma'am, Tracy and I..."

She cut him off firmly, "I think that's all you really need to say."

Bubba listened hard after that, reading the stress in the way she paced back and forth behind him. She wasn't the type to not be willing to listen. He had apparently pushed her to her limits. It wasn't an accomplishment that he was proud of.

Life carried on out there somewhere. Tractor trailer engines growled up and down the highway. Dogs barked. A car engine turned over. It was silence that wasn't really silence.

She broke through it, “I know how loyal you are, Bubba. I’m sorry. You would never...”

“I know I’m a lousy kissa’, but I _was_ tryin’,” he assured her.

He had given as much back as she had dished out and he had let her hands roam because he liked it.Surely, there was no way she couldn't see him as the willing participant that he was.

She tugged at a strand of her dark hair. “You were just caught up in the moment.”

He spun away from the railing to face her. A mere step or two and he was in front of her. Not about to let her make excuses for him, he took her gently by the shoulders and asked softly, “Am I caught up in the moment now?”

Not waiting for a reply, he touched his lips to hers. She stiffened, then just as quickly, she melted into him. She grabbed his coat and pulled him to her, eager to connect every inch of her body with his. A frustrated groan escaped her as she continued to pull, unable to satisfy her growing desire to get closer and deeper.

It wasn’t a long passionate kiss. It was a series of shorter ones. She could only manage desperate pecks and nips as her wants sped away in opposite directions. Half of her screamed to stop, because she shouldn't be doing this. The other half was on fire. The heat so intense, she had to break away or be consumed by it. But she went back, time and time again.

Releasing her shoulders, he slid his hands down her body. As if that gave her license, she slid her hands up and cupped his face as she kissed him. The initial fever was fading into something softer. More meaningful. She placed her kisses more carefully.

She was in love with him, but she also knew cheating wasn't in him. He would regret it. He would beat himself up over it. Even if it was Tracy.

It wasn't in her either. Finding her hands in his hair and her lips to his ear, she breathed, “I can’t. I won’t. I won’t steal you from her.”

Holding her more tenderly than he ever had before, he replied softly, “Ya should have neva’ given me the fool notion that ya wanted me around."

She pressed her cheek to his and warned, "I do want you, but you'll regret this."

She couldn't see the tranquil smile on his face as he confessed, “Ya can’t steal what’s yours, ma’am. You’re right, I’m loyal. Once I’m attached, I stay that way. Ya needed me and I haven’t been able to leave ya since."

He held her tighter, making his decision clear. "I tried. Believe me I tried... 'cause a woman like you deserves more than I can provide.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Luke walked into the inner office with a strained expression.

“What’s the matter with you?” Bill asked sharply.

“I have some interesting news about our creepy eyed friend, Mr. Illig.”

Bill leaned back and sighed heavily, remembering that Illig was still making a nuisance of himself in the lockup. Being labeled Sparta’s notorious disappearing bandit had made him a bit of a celebrity and he was milking it to the fullest. Always claiming his innocence of course.

“What about him?” Bill finally prodded.

“He kept saying he never clunked Robert Reed over the head. That he had an alibi for that one.”

Bill’s scowl only deepened.

Luke continued, “Illig's lawyer found the girl and her story checks out.”

Bill snorted hotly, “What do we have now? A third miscreant? What a wonderful way to begin the new year."

“Maybe not,” Lonnie interjected from where he’d been standing in the door listening in.

He settled in behind his desk before explaining, “We’ve only heard from our invisible man once since the assault on Reed. Maybe it _was_ our invisible man. Maybe something went _very_ wrong that night. Maybe it turned his stomach to the work... or scared him. Maybe he hit one last time to get the cash he needed to get out of town.”

“Is Reed remembering anything at all?” Luke asked, looking between the two other men. “It just feels like whatever happened there is the key to everything.”

Lonnie agreed, “I’m pretty sure you’re right, Luke, but the untold story is trapped inside Reed’s damaged brain.”

Looking to Luke, Bill stated firmly, “The Reeds should be notified that charges won't be filed against Illig for the assault, despite what the papers are saying. Use that as an opportunity to question Reed again.”

Luke’s expression suggested he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but he turned and left without protest. After Luke had left the room, Bill had second thoughts. He was breaking his own recently established rule of staying out of certain things. He looked to Lonnie and barked roughly, “Is that fine with you?”

Lonnie looked up. His expression that of a man waiting for something bad to happen, just not certain what. “I’m sure Luke can handle it.”

“Good,” Bill replied gruffly.

Watching the older man adjust his glasses to read something on his desk, Lonnie wondered what had suddenly come over the chief. Lonnie didn’t think the chief had ever asked for anyone’s opinion on his orders before, except to be flippant.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mrs. Reed ushered Luke into a darkened family room, where Mr. Reed was reclining on a sofa. A wet cloth was laid across his eyes. “He gets migraines something awful now,” she explained.

Luke felt as if he were imposing, but Mr. Reed had agreed to see him. Apprehensively, Luke approached the man and pulled up an upholstered foot rest to sit on. “I wish I had better news for you, Mr. Reed.”

That deserved a lifting of the towel and Reed peeked at him with one suspicious eye.

“Illig has come up with an alibi. The prosecutor intends to drop your assault from his list of charges.”

“So the guy is still out there.” Reed dropped the wet rag back into place and muttered a few expletives.

“I assure you, we’re not giving up.”

“Of course you’re not. This guy is making you all look like a bunch of idiots!”

Luke couldn’t argue with the truth, so he merely asked, “Have you remembered anything at all, sir?”

“No! All I’ve got left is a head prone to migraines and nightmares... and a place where my hair’s shorter than the rest,” he barked angrily.

“Nightmares?” Luke hunched forward with growing interest, hoping that the dreams could be a glimpse into Reed’s subconscious.

Reed had obviously caught the optimism in Luke’s question. “I’ve had enough people inside my head lately... figuratively _and_ literally. Stop expecting me to do your damn work for you.”

Luke sighed, realizing he had gotten as much out of Reed as he was going to. He got up and showed himself out into the hall. There, Mrs. Reed apologized, “He didn’t used to be this way. The doctors say it’s a permanent personality change due to the trauma to his brain. He’ll never be the same.”

Luke could see the strain forming lines around her eyes and mouth and he remembered that the victim was seldom the only one who felt the brunt of something like this.

He assured her, “We _are_ determined to get him, ma’am. _I’m_ determined.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba approached the front door with a case of nervous jitters he couldn't shake. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the button next to the door and listened to muffled chimes. He was beyond wondering if Althea could be the one. He wanted her to be, so he was resigned to let whatever happened happen.

Unfortunately, whatever happened could include her breaking his heart. Odds of that were good, considering his track record. Even now, she could open the door and tell him that she had finally come to her senses. She didn’t need another cop in her life. She didn’t need all the other baggage that came with him either. He wasn’t the right color... wasn’t attractive enough... wasn’t successful enough... had a troubled past....

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you,” Althea teased as she opened the door.

Any hopes she had about the pretext of his visit were quickly dashed as she took notice of his uniform and his patrol car parked at the curb.

It was a beautiful Saturday morning and it seemed a waste for him to spend it working. Not that she wasn't spending it working too. Despite the tatty sweater and faded jeans, she had been hard at, perusing a banker's box full of material the clinic had given her. The place had a handbook for everything. She had even found a memo explaining the latest protocol for lodging a complaint if the new vending machine didn't give proper change.

She pushed up the sloppy, over-sized sleeves of her grey sweater. She would gladly take a good looking man in uniform over boring bureaucracy any day. And he was wearing the hat... and the boots... and she knew she was wearing a girlish grin, the sort flashed by the good teenage girl when the misunderstood bad boy came around.

There was something to be said about those kind of relationships. They were fun and passionate. That was part of the appeal. She was feeling more alive than she had in a long time.

Seeing her smile that flirty smile, pleased to see him, made Bubba temporarily forget all of his nagging doubts. He tipped back his hat. “Looks like it's gonna' be a beautiful day."

His eyes were telling her he was more interested in the beautiful girl and Althea shifted her weight from one side to the other, tilted her head and played with her hair in a classic unspoken sign of courtship. The inviting smile was key and she flashed it, saying, "I do believe you're right. It feels like spring."

She didn't know about him, but the thought of spring suddenly made her think of sex. Specifically, fooling around between clean sheets dried on the line. Windows open, setting sun working magic she didn't see any other time of year. Colors in shades that spoke of long summer days to come.

Her voice was thick with desire and a little disappointment as she said, "Just teasing us, I'm sure."

He asked, "Would ya ratha' be back home?"

With thoughts of ice and snow blowing through her mind, she shook her head defiantly, answering on more levels than just one, "No. I'm a big girl, I can take a little teasing."

Feeling she had bared a little too much of her soul too soon, she stiffened. "What brings you by?"

"Business, ma’am."

With that, his doubts were back again. There was a serious problem when you could kiss the girl, but not call her by name.

Not noticing the slip of the tongue that so upset him, Althea replied, “I knew it was only a matter of time before those two were in trouble with the law.”

Eager to move on, he teased back, “The kids or your parents?”

She laughed openly, “Take your pick.”  


Folding her arms and eyeing him provocatively, she asked, “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Well, hear what I got and then _you_ can tell me.”

He then summed up what little Luke had told him about the Reeds.

She shook her head. “To regain his memory, he needs time, not a shrink. Now the anger, I might be able to help with that... and I definitely want to talk to his wife. This has to be a horrible ordeal for her. She’s expected to be there for him, yet he’s not the same man she married.”

Althea noted the faint smile creep into Bubba’s expression and she added, “I know, typical shrink. Thinks everyone needs their services.”

“Wasn’t thinkin’ that at all.”

“What _were_ you thinking?”

With the sort of look he was giving her, she really wanted to know. He was wearing a sheepish smile that screamed that he knew she wouldn't agree with him, but the look in his eyes was pure certainty and conviction.

“I’ll tell ya tonight ova’ dinna’... if you’re willin’?”

The fun and the passion was back. She asked eagerly, “Staying in or going out?”

“That’s up to you.”

His body language spoke clearly enough. He really was relinquishing that decision to her. When she was ready, he would follow.

Althea was about to admit that she would be more than happy to parade him around like a trophy boyfriend,then she remembered Tracy. Dislike Tracy as she did, she still wasn’t willing to rub salt in the other woman’s wounds. If anything, it demeaned _her_ more than Tracy.

“Can you cook?” she asked instead.

He looked genuinely surprised, then pleased, realizing she wasn't hesitating to set things into motion the way she wanted them. He admitted lightly, “I know it betta’ be dead ‘for ya try to cook it.”

“Good enough,” she laughed. “What time should I be there?”

If she could make demands, so could he. “I,” he stressed, tapping his chest, “Will be here at six to pick ya up.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I know I’m old, but they haven’t taken away the keys yet.”

He yanked off his hat and motioned in her direction with it. “I intend to court ya propa’.”

Just as she took a breath to speak with, the hat went back on and he snorted, “No arguments.”

He was apparently not ready to relinquish _some_ decisions to her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Trying to strike up a serious conversation with a little girl wearing a milk mustache and a boy with spaghetti face was not easy. Althea waited until the lunch dishes were cleared from the table and neatly stacked in the sink before sitting across from the twins with her your-mother-has-something-to-say expression. To her relief, her parents seemed to be turning a morning outing into an all day affair. She couldn’t blame them, it was still a beautiful day. Unchanged in the two hours since talking to Bubba on the front porch.

Althea finally stated bluntly, “I have a date tonight.”

The kids shared an intense look that seemed reserved only for twins. The look soon dissolved into confusion and they looked back to their mother. Billy thought for sure it was Bubba, but he worried about giving away his own optimism and certainly didn't want to seem disloyal to his father. Sarah, being a little more mature, knew there was something wrong about the two being together and was certain it wasn’t Bubba. She wasn’t able to discern the specifics yet, she was still too young, but she knew wrong when she saw it.

Althea had discussed certain things with them already. In ways, it made what she needed to say easier. Unfortunately, it complicated it in ways as well. She couldn’t help but feel as if she had lied to them all those times she had assured them that Bubba was just a close friend. 

Deciding that it was just best to have it out, she explained, “I know I’ve told you two that Bubba and I are just friends. Sometimes, the things that make you like someone as a friend turn out to be the same things that make you like them as more than a friend.”

She smiled a large genuine smile, “I like him so much that I’ve decided to go out with him.”

She paused to study their young faces. She saw some lip biting and fidgeting, but no real confusion. They were hanging in there with her.

She spread her hands, then clasped them tightly, coming to the difficult part. She had to reach the perfect balance of telling them enough, but not too much. Too much would only confuse them. “Usually, this is where our talk would end, but things are going to be a little different this time. That’s because Bubba and I have been friends for a _long_ time. Dating is for getting to know someone... to see if you like someone. I already know that with him. Things will probably move a little faster between us than what you’re used to.”

Althea paused again to gauge their reactions. She couldn’t read their minds and it was probably a good thing that she couldn’t. She’d have thought she was failing Parenting 101 if she knew what they were really thinking. Billy was already imagining the two getting married, while Sarah was wondering if her mother and father would fight about this.

Oblivious to their thoughts, Althea continued, “Or things might not happen at all. Just because Bubba and I are friends, doesn’t guarantee that this will work out. If it doesn’t... well, that won’t be the same as before either. Like I said, I like him very much and I cherish his friendship above all else. You’ve seen the other men I’ve dated _go away_. Bubba won’t... or at least, I hope not.”

Looking into one small face and then another, she asked, “Any questions? Any at all?”

She waited for a moment, then added, “Bubba won’t bite, you can ask him questions too. That’s another difference I know you’ll have to deal with. He’s been your buddy and now he’s going to be... something a little different.”

Sarah finally had a question and she asked it more sharply than she intended to, “What about the blonde?”

Althea had always worried that something would come of that, so it came back to her almost instantly. “The tall blonde? At Bubba’s house?”

The little girl nodded.

“That was Tracy,” Althea replied, forcing an air of detached calm. “Tracy is his ex-wife. They were married. Things didn’t work out, so they divorced.”

The little girl’s expression darkened. She knew Bubba and Tracy had been doing _something_ they weren’t supposed to. She just didn’t know what it was, so she couldn’t begin to ask about it.

Seeing her daughter struggle, Althea knew her response had been insufficient. If Bubba was the one for her, the longer the relationship went on, the more her children would feel it inappropriate to question things. She wanted no splinters left behind to fester.

She spoke, hoping to either soothe the girl’s fears or lead her daughter to ask more questions, “We’ve talked about how your father and I split up and then tried to make it work again. Well, that’s what Bubba and Tracy were trying to do, but just like me and your father, Bubba has decided that he can’t fix his relationship with Tracy. He’s ready to move on.”

Sarah scrunched up her face, thinking hard. She couldn’t understand why her feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t go away. Her mother didn’t think Tracy was a problem, so the little girl reasoned that everything should be alright now, but it wasn’t.

“Is there something _wrong_ with him, momma?”

Althea flinched. Billy still called her momma, Sarah had stopped long ago, opting for mom.

“It’s complicated, honey. So complicated that even adults don’t fully understand it. In life, there are little rules that a lot of people follow, yet don’t know why. They’re not written or really even spoken about much anymore, but they’re still there. A lot of people think Bubba and I are wrong for one another and that’s probably what you’re feeling... they hide their distaste, but I think everyone still feels it.”

Althea didn’t speak her next thought out loud. _I’m not surprised you feel it, kiddo. You_ feel _everything. Too much sometimes._

“But he’s nice,” Sarah protested softly. It was the first time she had really acknowledged which way she leaned as far as Bubba was concerned. She felt guilty for not doing it sooner, wondering if Bubba thought she didn’t like him. She did. A lot. She just felt a loyalty to her father first and foremost.

As Billy quickly agreed with a zealous nodding of his head, Althea felt burgeoning tears burn her eyes. She wasn’t just overwhelmed with love for her children, but also overwhelmed with an intense love for the nice guy her daughter spoke of.

Althea agreed, “Bubba _is_ very nice. That’s why I don’t care that some people think it’s wrong... that _he’s_ wrong.”

She paused to swallow down her emotions and blot at her eyes in a way that wasn’t too conspicuous.

“We’ll talk about this some more, but later,” she finished softly.

Not only had she subjected them to enough, but she’d had enough as well. To sit down and list what was supposedly wrong with the best thing to come along for her in a long time was just too much. She would end up marching down to the town square, bullhorn in hand, to make a public announcement. She loved Bubba Skinner and anyone who didn’t like it could go to hell.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Ya haven’t asked me what I was thinkin’ earlia’,” Bubba muttered softly.

He wasn’t even sure Althea was still awake. He had accepted her offer to stay awhile when he had brought her home and now that everyone else had retired for the night, it was just the two of them.

He still wasn't sure what to think about that. If she hadn't been working her magic, curled up in his arms, tucked against his chest, he would have let his mind tumble into a dark abyss of doubt. Even now, it teetered on the edge.

The twins seemed to approve of his presence, but he had dated a woman with children once before and found that kids could be as fickle as cats. Love you one minute, snub you the next.

Then there was Calvin and Ruth Peterson. They seemed to approve, but he was just waiting for them to find out who their daughter had really gotten involved with. He was _that_ guy. Every small town had one. _Keep your daughter away from that one_ , they would say.

Virgil would say it. He wouldn't be looking out for Althea's best interests if he didn't. Bubba couldn't fault him for disapproving. A part of him didn't approve either.

All those times before, the disapproving part couldn't overpower his fierce loyalty. Now was no different. He wouldn't let her go.

Resting her eyes or sleeping, he still wasn't sure, but she looked at peace. She was merely strengthening his resolve. There was no doubt now that she wanted him around. That was enough for him. If she wanted him, he would stay.

Althea proved she was still awake by asking, “What were you thinking?”

She snuggled up to him, though it wasn’t possible to get any closer than she already was. She ran her fingers down his chest again and again, as if she had to coax an answer out of him.

The room was dimly lit. The television flickered, but neither cared what was on. The house was quiet, except for all the little noises that made it feel warm and safe on a cold winter night. A clock ticked. Curtains rustled over a heating vent. Wood creaked somewhere.

Right then, he made a conscious decision to commit. There would be no more doubts about what he should do or where he should be. He wasn't going anywhere. To think otherwise was a waste of his time and not fair to her.

Easy as that, he found himself drawn into her life. The twins didn't just seem to approve, they did approve. Her parents approved. Most of all, she approved and he could enjoy the moment absolutely free of any guilt.

Maybe she could sense a change, because she opened her eyes and looked up into his.

Hair had fallen close to her questioning eyes and he brushed it away. “I was thinkin' what I'm always thinkin'. That you’re the most tenda’ hearted woman I’ve eva’ known.”

“Tell me more,” she teased drowsily, letting her eyes fall shut again.

Looking at what he had accomplished and feeling pretty damn proud of himself, he drawled simply, "You're pretty."

She smiled shyly. His simple compliment had come from somewhere deep inside of him, of that she was certain. A sincere statement like that was worth a thousand that weren't.

The smile lingered on her face and he soaked it in. He was right and he doubted it would ever change. She was the most selfless and compassionate person he had ever met.

His reluctance to change the subject was clear as he said, “Well... speakin’ of _why_ I think you’re so tenda’ hearted... I’m not allowed to go with ya to see Reed?”

Her gaze darted to meet his. “Why?”

“It would appear that, for some odd reason, some folks think I’m a hot head.”

“No!” she gasped.

“Found it hard to believe myself, but yeah. Jamison’ll take ya to where eva’ it is Luke gets this thing set up for.”

He held her tighter and spoke with a hint of authority, “You have any trouble with that man at all, you let Lonnie deal with him.”

He loosened his grip a little. “I feel just as bad for Reed as you do. Ain’t his fault, but he does have some self-control and he needs to be usin’ it.”

“That’s exactly what I want to help him do... regain his self-control.”

Bubba closed his eyes, needing a second. He wanted to tell her how incredibly special she was. Her compassion bowled him over every time, but he was no poet. He could never find the right words, so he stopped trying.

Opening his eyes, he found her looking back at him with a tired expression. He sometimes forgot how hectic her life was. How she stretched herself too thin to please too many people. He refused to be one of the many making demands.

He whispered, “If you’re gonna’ deal with him, you need all your strength. Time to go to bed, sleepy head.”

She smiled devilishly, suddenly much more awake. “You’re right. Let’s go to bed.”

He didn’t take her seriously. She knew him better than that. She was in for a wait. “How 'bout you go to bed and I’ll go home?”

She pouted until he compromised a little. Collecting her up to carry her off to bed, he found the feel of her to his liking, but he felt drained instantly. He held her to him a little tighter and told himself to breathe. After a couple deep breaths, he felt a bit better.

Soon he was joking, “Your daddy still carry a gun?”

She breathed against his neck, “Should he? Do you intend to tarnish his daughter’s reputation?”

“Yeah, but not tonight,” he drawled.

She murmured in his ear, “You’re no fun.”

“Keep whisperin’ in my ear like that and you’ll find out how fun I am.”

She ran her hand up his neck and touched the side of his face in a way that sent a shiver through him.

“Ma’am, I’m tryin’ real hard to be a gentleman.”

He really was struggling. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman who actually cared for him. His soul craved being with her more than his body did, which spoke volumes considering how lovely she was.

He moved on, determined to put her to bed... without him. His boots sounded harsh and loud against the hard wood floor in the hall leading to her room. The dark walls around him seemed eager to soak it up and just as eager to share it with whoever was on the other side.

He suddenly wondered what Calvin Peterson would think of things. Daddy’s girl was always daddy’s girl, no matter how old she was... _or how chaste the poor sap’s intentions are_ , Bubba thought lightly.

In her bedroom, the drapes were open, allowing in some faint light from some unseen source outside. He laid her down gently. Though drowsy, she still tried and he still declined.

Folding the covers over her from the other half of the bed, he repeated softly, “I intend to court ya propa’. Rememba’?”

She pouted, “There’s no fun in proper.”

Fun or not, she knew proper was what she was getting, so she turned onto her side and curled up. She was already half asleep as she muttered, “Goodnight, Bubba.”

Bubba moved to reply in kind when he heard the faintest sigh escape her. “Eat something.”

He merely smiled fondly as he looked down on her and decided to leave it at that.

Turning to the door to leave, the smile that Althea had put on his face slid away. He had turned to find Calvin standing there, looking too expressionless for the younger man’s taste.

As Bubba acknowledged him and attempted to pass, he was stopped with a light touch to the shoulder. It didn’t really come as a surprise. Bubba had sensed something was coming. 

Calvin stated dryly, “I like you, Bubba. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Bubba attempted to respond, but was silenced, finding Calvin’s touch wasn’t so gentle anymore. The other man’s age didn’t show in his increasingly vise like grip.

“How’s the ex-wife?” Calvin inquired flatly.

Bubba answered truthfully, “Wouldn’t know. Haven’t seen her for awhile.”

Calvin studied Bubba’s face, then stated, “If you come around here again, make sure you still don’t know.”

To Calvin’s surprise, Bubba looked him in the eye and replied firmly, “Yes, sir.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“ _That_ is one _angry_ man,” Althea snorted, closing the door behind her.

“You don’t have to go back in. It’s his own case he’s sabotaging acting like this. He’s only hurting himself,” Lonnie replied, on the verge of calling things to a halt.

He was more grateful than ever that he had kept Bubba away. Even from the other side of the door, Lonnie had heard enough to almost lose his own composure.

“No. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Althea sighed and added, “And I can see how someone might give up on him too soon. He might know something, Lonnie.”

Jamison thought on it for a minute, but decided in the end that it was up to her. If she was willing, he wouldn’t interfere... yet.

Althea took a deep calming breath and looked to Lonnie as if she needed luck on her side.

Lonnie smirked sympathetically. “Good luck.”

He watched her go back in and instantly felt a whole new respect for her blossom.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba walked into the inner office to find that the sullen party had started without him. Lonnie’s expression was unruffled as usual, the chief’s was stern as usual and Althea’s suggested she wanted nothing more than a good night’s rest.

“Well?” he asked cautiously, announcing his presence.

Althea looked up and a faint secretive smile passed from her to him. It made his conscience ache. To appease it, he sat closer to her than he had intended, leaving himself vulnerable to whatever she decided to do. Vulnerable to whatever she wanted the other two men to see.

When no one else moved to fill Bubba in, Althea said, “I coaxed _something_ out of Mr. Reed, but I’m not sure it will amount to anything.”

“What sortta’ _somethin_ ’?” Bubba drawled casually.

Far more casually than he thought possible under the circumstances. He felt like a man in front of a firing squad, just waiting for and even wanting the inevitable to hurry up and happen.

Seemingly oblivious to Bubba’s turmoil, Althea replied to his question calmly, “Mr. Reed is having some interesting dreams. It’s not exactly a recurring dream, but it _is_ a recurring theme in his dreams. As I stressed to these two, I’m not a believer that recurring _anything_ means something. Dreams seldom mean anything at all, no matter how much people try to analyze them... _but_ I find Mr. Reed’s a little too fitting to overlook. He often has nightmares featuring a man without a face. There’s just an empty void where his face should be.”

Lonnie interjected for Bubba’s benefit, “The media was calling our guy _invisible_ before Reed’s assault. That may be what it stems from... _if_ it stems from anything. I agree, it’s a stretch.”

“Lonnie’s most likely right,” Althea admitted. “When dreams _do_ have meaning, it’s rarely deep and hard to decipher.”

With a shrug, she added tiredly, “That’s it, Coach.”

She scanned the room, directing her apology to each one of them. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you more.”

Bubba forgot himself for a moment and moved to rub Althea’s shoulder reassuringly. Catching himself, all he could do was salvage the gesture, making it a much more platonic touch. He attempted a casual glance at Lonnie and then the chief. He suddenly wished he was dealing with anyone but those two. The chief missed nothing and Lonnie’s expression could be as unreadable as print to a blind man.

The chief pushed back from his desk, but didn’t stand. “Althea looks tired, Bubba. Take her home.”

As he stood, Bubba desperately attempted to read the chief’s mood, but he couldn’t quite do it. Something displeased the older man greatly, leaving him rubbing his chin, under tightly sealed lips.

He was soon confident that the chief was far from interested in flirtations going on in his office and quickly exited to do as he was instructed.

Unwilling to release the death grip he had on his own chin, Bill raised the index finger on his free hand. “Jamison, Reed is right about _one_ thing. We _are_ being made to look like fools.”

Finally standing, Bill added, “And I think that has been someone’s goal all along. Oh, how we _do_ look foolish.”

He then yanked his hat from its reserved peg. “And I, for one, am tired of looking foolish.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba scoffed at the beautiful passenger that held his hand. “We ain’t hidin’ nothin’. There’s a difference ‘tween havin’ a private life and hidin’.”

He thought back to sitting in the office with Jamison and Gillespie and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew, but he wasn’t going to tell Althea that. Neither man was a gossip and she would merely tell him he was imagining things anyway. “It’s not somethin’ ya just announce.”

Althea replied lightly, “Telephone... telegraph... tell Parker.”

Bubba smiled, but it faded quickly. “Parka’s not really on the top of his game right now.”

“Marissa?”

Nodding sadly, Bubba confided, “I’m startin’ to worry ‘bout him. Think reality’s finally caught up with him and he’s takin’ it hard.”

He squeezed her hand, finding himself incredibly, almost painfully, thankful to have her right there with him. The Fates could have been cruel to him as they had been to Parker, keeping Althea from him. It hadn’t happened overnight, but it _did_ happen. For Parker, it most likely wouldn’t. Even worse, it might end tragically.

Althea said gently, “You’re feeling a little guilty, aren’t you.”

No response from him was a response within itself, so she added, “He’ll be happy for you. If anything, tell him his meddling paid off for once.”

“That’s the last thing we need goin’ to that boy’s head... but I’ll tell him anyway. I kinda’ feel like I should at least tell him first. Courtesy, I s’pose.”

“It’ll be practice for announcing it to everyone else,” she teased.

Bubba smirked and blatantly changed topics, “How was your first day at work?”

Humoring him, she replied without a fight. “Just paperwork... getting settled into the office.”

“Nice office?”

“Not bad. Little dreary. The flowers helped,” she replied, smiling warmly at him.

“I thought ya might like ‘em.”

“I did. Thank you. You created quite the buzz.”

Seeing his confused expression, she explained, “Other women notice things like that.”

She hesitated, not sure if she should say anymore. Finally she added, “They wanted to know all about you.”

The disappointment in her voice was hard to miss and it made him feel like a louse. “You say whateva’ ya want to whoeva’ ya want.”

Althea knew he meant what he said. He would go along with whatever decision she made. If anything, he seemed eager to let her take the wheel. That was the problem. She would gladly fight any battle for him, but this was a fight she knew she didn’t have a chance of winning alone. He had to be just as committed as she was. Being _behind_ her wouldn’t be good enough.

As he pulled up to the curb in front of her house, she knew she had run out of time. He still had his shift to finish. That meant the talk they needed to have would have to wait. Getting out quickly, she stood at the curb and asked, “Have any free time to spare this weekend?”

Leaning to peer out the open door at her, Bubba admitted, “Don’t know. A lot can change ‘tween then and now.”

 _I certainly hope so_ , Althea thought. When they were alone together, he made her feel like she was the center of his universe. That changed when the world was watching. She went from being the center of his universe to being the core of his anxiety. While he had been watching Lonnie and the chief, she had been watching him. What she saw troubled her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Francis Angelopoulos placed her stack of folders and books along the top edge of the receptionist’s cubicle before stating leerily, “I was called to the office.”

“Name?” came a curt response.

“Angelopoulos,” she stated, knowing there would be no other Angelopoulos’ to be confused with.

“ _Front_ office.”

Francis sighed, gathered up her books and trudged away. _Why didn’t they just say front office to begin with?_

She paid little attention to her surroundings, going immediately to the front office receptionist. This time, she wasn’t directed to yet another office, she was merely pointed in a certain direction. She followed the receptionist’s finger and was surprised to find the Chief of Police looking through a magazine with a perplexed expression on his face.

“Chief Gillespie?” the girl asked timidly.

“I’ve gotten a man off death row... and I do believe the process was far easier and faster than getting you out of class,” Bill stated dryly.

Francis liked the old man’s dry wit and she smiled. “Is this about Toby?”

Bill stood slowly from his chair, dropping the magazine back onto the table where he found it. “No.”

He looked over the girl’s shoulder and found the receptionist was more interested in their conversation than her own conversation with whoever was on the phone tucked against her ear.

“May we?” Bill asked, picking up his hat and motioning in a general direction.

Francis tucked her books tight to her chest and followed his lead. When out of range of the receptionist’s eavesdropping, Bill stated, “I’m in need of a guide.”

He looked behind him and then back to her. “One who won’t be _too_ interested in the questions I have to ask.”

A typical teenage girl, Francis was up for a bit of sleuthing. “Who do you need to talk to?”

“I’m not even sure yet... but the Drama Department would be a fine place to start.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bill Gillespie reached into his inner coat pocket and withdrew two polaroid pictures. He held them out of view as he walked by the dispatcher’s desk. He inquired of Parker, “Is Peake here?”

“Yeah, Chief.”

“Get him.”

Parker hopped up as usual and went to work. Also, as usual, Bill had to shoo him away as he tried to tag along behind Peake into the office. Peake only smiled as Parker sulked away back to his desk. Neither man would admit it, but for a moment, it was nice to have the old Parker back.

“Peake,” Bill asked, “Do you know this woman?”

Peake took the offered Polaroid and examined it closely. He handed it back with a softly spoken, “No, sir.”

“Do you know this woman?” Bill asked, handing him the other photo.

Peake immediately smiled, seeing the familiar face. How could he forget the little girl with the unusual name. She would have been delighted to know that he not only remembered it, but pronounced it correctly. “Francis Angelopoulos, Chief.”

Knowing Peake had taken a shine to the girl, Bill had chosen him specifically. With both photos back in his possession, Bill held them up side by side. “They’re both Francis Angelopoulos.”

Peake leaned forward and took another look. The previously unknown woman had her hair up, not down like Francis’, but the curve of the hair line around her face was a match. As well as the shade of her hair and the shape of her eyebrows. The eyes were also a match. The rest was obviously not.

Bill added, “Francis was kind enough to help me in a little experiment.”

He then reached into his pocket and withdrew a small ziplock bag, which he dropped onto the desk. “This was all it took to transform her into someone else.”

Placing both photos down on his desk along side the ziplock bag, Bill studied them. As long as Francis never donned the prosthetics in the bag, no one would ever see the mystery woman again. She had _disappeared_. She had ceased to exist entirely.


	8. Chapter 8

Lonnie folded Bill’s newspaper and slid it back across the table to him. He refused to see anymore, especially now. It would ruin his appetite and he expressed as much to the chief. 

He grabbed the ketchup bottle from the center of the table. He gave it a hasty shake before removing the cap. Every bottle in the cafe seemed to stay perpetually half-full. This one was no exception. 

He turned the bottle upside down and tapped on the bottom. Satisfied with the results, he capped the bottle and forgot about his hash browns for the moment. He asked the chief, “Read Carter’s column?” 

When he received an irritated nod in response, Lonnie added, “He seems bored with us lately.” 

Bill replied, “He thinks his side has won the war." 

“Have they?” 

“Quit that talk, Jamison. You’ll make me lose _my_ appetite... though considering what my wife makes me eat, that might be to my benefit." 

Bill poked at an omelet that, according to his wife, contained no eggs. She claimed some sort of substitute was used. The onions and peppers were plentiful, because they were good for him. He suspected it was more about covering up the taste of the mystery substance that was not-eggs and the other mystery substance that was not-cheese and something else that was not-meat. 

Lonnie's smile was brief, faint and knowing. He looked away, only to notice something that made him feel that he was closer on the chief's heels than he wanted to be. His restricted diet days were lurking just around the corner. 

It was bad enough to see a girl you watched grow up holding her new baby, but when that girl was an old classmate’s daughter, it stung that much more. If his classmates were old enough to be grandparents, he was too. 

Bill had followed Lonnie’s gaze. “Isn’t that Allen Landreth’s daughter? Sherry?” 

“Mary,” Lonnie corrected. 

“Didn’t you go to school with Allen Landreth?” 

“I did.” 

“That her child?” Bill continued, referring to the infant in that gruff bark he was notorious for. 

“It is.” 

With a quick look between Lonnie and the baby and back again, Bill snorted, “I think you’re behind schedule.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Clark Randall ran his hands through already unruly hair. Behind him, the hangar housing McEntire’s Gulf Coast Transport was bustling under a beautiful morning sky. With the large doors open, the outdoors seemed to come indoors. 

Randall signed a form here and there with a name that wasn’t his own. He wished he had more time, but that was not an option now. Those he answered to wanted results sooner than he could possibly deliver. He would squeeze by, until things came together as he knew they would. 

Startled by a voice from behind him, Randall almost pulverized the pen in his hand. “What are you doing here?” he growled. 

Scanning for eavesdroppers, then looking to his associate, Randall added, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

Chiaruttini mocked, “Thought all of this was legitimate... smooth as a baby’s ass and all that.” 

Randall didn’t like Che Che’s sudden attitude, as if he had suddenly found his manhood and wanted to put on some sort of territorial display. Randall stood, towering over the smaller man. He wasn’t going to waste his time playing a macho game he knew he could win without any effort. “The shipment is coming early.” 

“Really,” Chiaruttini replied dryly. 

He seemed on the verge of boredom. Inside, he was far from it. Their connection had lost faith in Randall and had taken control, yet Randall was still being trusted with this. Chiaruttini wasn’t buying it. Someone was lying about something and Randall looked too rattled to be the one doing it. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

The county’s newest acting sheriff quickly turned a chair backwards and settled at the table Bill and Lonnie were sharing for breakfast. He removed his beat up camo cap and ran a hand through thick brown hair. He was a striking reminder that not every man wearing a cap was bald underneath. 

Pleasantries were exchanged and Bill inquired as to how the post was suiting the much younger sheriff. He was answered with a chuckle and mention of having good days and bad, like with anything else one did. 

Small talk continued among the trio. The unusually cold weather was discussed and small talk turned to shop talk. The new sheriff had concerns about what resources were available if a winter storm of any real magnitude were to hit the small town. 

They shifted easily from one subject to another, until Clint Bergdol finally stated in irritation, “I ran into Councilman Randall down at the courthouse yesterday. He’s got it in his head that there’s a jurisdictional problem with the McGinnis case.” 

Standing to his full height of a whole five feet two inches, the sheriff added, “I do believe I’ve cleared him up on the matter. Have a good one, Bill... Lonnie.” 

The seated men suggested the young sheriff do the same. Bill moved to take up his coffee cup as he noticed Lonnie’s eyes following Clint out the cafe’s front door. The detective’s gaze suggested a hint of mischief. Bill couldn’t be certain of the detective’s thoughts, but he considered it likely that they matched his own. 

Randall and Bergdol were two men destined to clash every time they crossed paths. If Clark Randall was a predator in the wild, he wouldn’t have lasted long. He would have starved to death, spending all his time running off the perceived competition, like Clint Bergdol or Bubba Skinner. 

 _His bravado will be his downfall_ , Bill thought smugly, before concluding, “We now know Randall is paying attention and it makes a man wonder why.” 

“It’s not everyday that we exhume a body,” Jamison replied. 

The exhumation of Toby’s body had made the morning paper, a picture of the heavy equipment used at the site included. The article, like Randall, had suggested jurisdictional conflicts. Toby’s _accident_ had occurred outside the city limits. 

The Sparta P.D. and the Sheriff’s Department had a far better working relationship now than it had in the past, in part due to Bill’s stint as sheriff and also due to his being replaced by a man who had quickly proven himself an ally. 

Lonnie had approached Clint, with what was usually a daunting task of sorting out jurisdiction and pecking order. After a mere ten minutes, Clint had leaned back, entwined his fingers behind his head and muttered, “Well, you obviously know more about this than I do.” 

Lonnie had been in charge ever since. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Dee Shepard was a rushed woman. She had the day off and she intended to utilize every minute to the utmost. Even with all the help Luann had offered, the task at hand seemed impossible to complete in time. 

Luann hadn’t even been home yet, after pulling her usual night shift. The two women had been the first through the door after the small boutique had opened. 

Pushing two garments aside, Dee eyed a piece in a lovely hue. On closer inspection, it just wasn’t quite what she was looking for. Her luckless search wasn’t all she was frustrated with. “I think Lonnie’s burning out,” she sighed. 

The reply from the other side of the rack was soft and sympathetic. “Lonnie’s the only one who can find the balance _he_ needs. None of us can do it for him.” 

Dee nodded, knowing Luann’s logic was sound. There were some things that each of them had to face alone. They all had their limit and Lonnie needed to find and define his and not cross it. 

Moving the conversation off course slightly, Dee added, “The chief isn’t helping Lonnie’s stress level any.” 

This time, Luann Corbin waited until they were side by side before replying, “He’s not helping my stress level either.” 

Dee sympathized, “Acting strange with you too?” 

“I’m grateful for the promotion, I don’t want to come across like I’m not.” 

“You’ve never been a complainer,” Dee interjected, assuring her friend that nothing she confided would be construed as mere whining. 

“I feel like I’ve been cut loose to fend for myself.” Luann parted the garments before her aggressively. “Bubba and I might share the same rank now, but I don’t have the experience he does. I ask the chief what he wants me to do and he just grunts something about trusting me. He might trust me, but _I_ don’t trust me.” 

Dee didn’t attempt to give Luann a pep talk about self-confidence. She knew her friend had plenty of that. Luann was just smart enough to know her limitations and respect them. 

Luann continued in frustration, “When I argue the point, he refuses to hear it.” 

Though she was checking a price tag, Dee wasn’t shaking her head over the amount. “He’s pulling away from all of us... and I think it’s deliberate.” 

A somber silence settled over them until Dee went on to suggest, “Maybe you should run things by Bubba for now.” 

“Oh, I’m sure Tracy would just _love_ that,” Luann scoffed. Another woman calling in the middle of the night was the quickest way to set off a jealous girlfriend. 

If there was a hook amid Luann’s comment, Dee wasn’t willing to bite at it. She remained mute, checking the sturdiness of a zipper. 

Luann sighed, knowing she was suddenly being ignored for a reason. “You’re asking for trouble if you invite her to the wedding.” 

Dee needed no reminder. She had been friends with Tracy Boggs long before Bubba Skinner had caught Tracy’s eye. Knowing that relationships could get ugly, no matter how wonderful the two people involved, she had given her long time friend more leniency than the rest of the force had. 

That leniency didn’t prevent her from seeing the danger. Putting Tracy and Bubba together, seeing each other or not, was like mixing volatile chemicals. One false move and she could have the couple going up like nitroglycerin in the midst of the biggest day of her life. 

Luann didn’t like how Dee was burying her head in the sand, so she decided to just have it all out in the open. “What about Althea Tibbs?” 

Unwilling to bite at another baited hook, Dee replied blandly, “I’m going to invite her and Virgil both.” 

As she considered a dress that would obviously need hemmed, she tucked the fabric up and studied how it looked. Something occurred to her and she let the fabric slip from her hands. “I’m not sure I want so many divorced couples at my wedding,” she admitted, giving a weak chuckle. “It might be contagious.” 

With biting sarcasm, Luann replied, “At least Bubba and Tracy are trying to work it out.” 

Luann was one of many on the force who knew the reconciliation wouldn’t last. However, she was amid a minority that also thought the whole thing seemed a little too convenient. She considered it the kind of situation that would have the chief quoting something about a man protesting too much. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Expecting trouble, Bubba had accompanied Peake out on the first call of the day. To his disappointment, nothing had transpired and Peake was now parking his cruiser in its usual space. 

It was Peake who first noticed Parker milling around aimlessly. 

The captain followed the younger officer’s gaze and asked, “Any idea what’s up with him?” 

“No, sir.” Peake turned and looked Bubba in the eye, his expression unsettled. “Has to be something. He’ll get yelled at for sure when the chief comes in.” 

Bubba reassured, “I’ll go round him up.” 

With that said, Bubba slid out of the passenger seat and closed the door. 

Peake hated conflict, which seemed strange for a man choosing law enforcement for a profession, until one remembered that it was called _keeping the peace_. The younger officer didn’t want to see Parker get chastised and Bubba didn’t really want to see it either. Things didn’t slide off Parker’s back like they used to and the chief’s patience was becoming questionable from any one moment to the next. It was a volatile situation waiting to happen. 

Bubba knew he needed to have a good sit down with both of them. He wondered if today was the day. He was in the perfect mood for a little confrontation, but nothing serious. That’s what he had been hoping for when he had gone out on the early run with Peake. 

He and Althea had spoken over the phone the night before and the conversation was still dogging him into the next morning. It was one of those conversations where it was more about what went unsaid. He faulted himself for not catching on in time and asking what was troubling her. 

He had been distracted with his own thoughts at the time, uncertain what to do about Calvin Peterson. It was hard to forget the short, one-sided confrontation they’d had over their mutual concern. That mutual concern being Althea. 

As if the old man had a poisonous touch, Bubba’s shoulder had been a little sore ever since. The old football injury had picked an inopportune time to make itself known again, acting as a constant reminder that he was only a heartbeat from putting father and daughter at odds. 

Bubba knew he was also a heartbeat away from putting himself at odds with Althea if he didn’t tell her and she found out. She would think the men were making decisions for her. _In a way, she’d be right. It’s her life..._  

Approaching his friend, Bubba was grateful to have no choice but to shut up inside his own head. He found himself thinking in circles a lot lately. Hitching up his pants one last time, he forced a chipper tone, “Well, son, what has you lookin’ so outta’ sorts?” 

“Couldn’t take much more, Bubba,” Parker answered flatly. 

“Much more a’ what?” 

“Dee just couldn’t wait,” came the slightly bitter reply. “She came in to tell everybody they’ve set a date... don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her. I am. I just couldn’t take everybody being so happy for her at once. Ya know?” 

Bubba settled on the hood of his own cruiser. “Yeah, I do know, Parka’. Can get a lil’ thick.” He motioned for Parker to join him. 

Parker eyed him with doubt and then gave in. Bubba had always been a bit fastidious about his things, including his cruisers. 

“That the only reason you’re out here?” Bubba asked. 

“Just needed some air.” 

“Maybe I’ll stay out here awhile too.” Bubba leaned towards his friend, as if someone might actually overhear them if he didn’t. “The chief can growl at both of us.” 

“He doesn’t mean it, Bubba. He’s just... stressed.” 

“Like you?” Bubba probed. 

No reply came from Parker, but there was really no need for one. Turmoil was written all over him and Bubba knew where that turmoil was rooted. After his personal experiences of the past few years, Bubba had become a reluctant expert in chaos, especially in matters of the heart. “Don’t give up on her, Parka’.” 

“Thought this was _my_ business.” 

Bubba hadn’t forgotten that conversation and chuckled, “It is, but it don’t mean otha’s don’t get to have an opinion of their own.” 

Sighing, Parker acknowledged that truth with a slow nod. “I’m more worried she’ll give up on _me_.” 

Bubba hid a smile, thinking of a persistent woman in his own life. He sometimes wondered where he would be if she wasn’t so determined. “Once a good woman’s got her heart set, she can be pretty tenacious.” 

“I know that, but we might be talking years, not months... or never. I don’t want her to wait forever. Wasting her life would hurt me more than her movin’ on without me.” 

Just as Bubba had feared, Parker was beginning to put all the pieces together and see what he was really in for. “Movin’ on isn’t the same thing as forgettin’, Parka’. It’s all ‘bout rememberin’ or forgettin’... not livin’.” 

“Why don’t you be a little more cryptic there, Bubba.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Lonnie’s usual calm and controlled expression became strained as he listened to Bill’s theory. Though a far fetched idea, the polaroids in his hand gave it a great deal of credence. Finally handing the photos back, a rare smile crossed Lonnie’s face. “Sounds like something Parker would come up with.” 

“You’re paying your own tab after a comment like that,” Bill growled. He quickly collected his hat and coat. Not only was it time to pay, but it had been for almost fifteen minutes. They were both running late. Lonnie especially, usually at work before dawn. 

Once out in the morning air, Bill admitted, “It is rather far fetched, but I’ve been certain for some time that there is something unusual about this case.” 

“Far fetched or not, it makes sense. You don’t have to worry about getting caught if the face you’re wearing isn’t your own,” Lonnie agreed. 

Placing his hat on his head, Bill added, “It’s merely a theory.” 

“Did this theory drop out of a clear blue sky?” Lonnie looked to the heavens, almost hopefully, as if he could use some more help if that were the case. 

“Too many sleepless nights, Jamison... and you pecking away at that computer of yours.” Bill expected his men to be up with the technology, but he still hated the alien devices and avoided them as often as possible. Avoiding them as he did, he still knew of the tools of the trade. Lonnie’s facial composite software had set the city back enough that no one at the city council had let him forget about its purchase for some time. 

“It’s almost as easy today, with the right skills and tools, to change bone structure or skin tone as it is to grow a beard or dye one’s hair. That little gadget of yours got me to thinking about it. After what Althea contributed, I decided it was finally time to look into it.” 

Lonnie nodded, realizing that maybe it wasn’t as far fetched a theory as he had originally thought. A disguise was a disguise. Criminals sometimes wore wigs or fake facial hair. Some even dressed as the opposite sex or wore lifts in their shoes. Why not take it a step further? If you had the talent and the supplies, it was a damn good idea. 

“I’m actually hoping you’re wrong, Chief. The last thing I want is this giving anyone else ideas.” 

Bill nodded solemnly. In an age where so many hid behind electronic communications to steal and stalk, the last thing they needed were more criminals creeping around anonymously. “I suppose we have some solace, Jamison. Most crime is on the spur of the moment, involving people too dim or too angry to ever think to be this sneaky.” 

“This guy isn’t in it for the money,” Lonnie stated, though he knew Bill was too smart to not have thought of that himself. “Kids and junkies are into robbing stores, not somebody this smart.” 

“It serves some other end.” Bill had come to his driver’s side door and opened it. Everything about his demeanor suggested he knew that end and he was not pleased. 

“To make us look foolish.” Lonnie understood now. 

There was a whole campaign raging against them to do just that and one man seemed determined to run the show. Lonnie felt like a failure and admitted, “I’ve got nothing to go after him with.” 

“We have a young man who’s never had a chance to tell his story,” Bill sighed, thinking of Toby McGinnis, “Let’s give him a chance to tell us what he knows.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Bubba knew lingering outside the station much longer was asking for trouble, but some things were more important. Between being on a slow mend and seeing Althea, he had been neglecting his friendship with Parker and the man needed a friend more now than ever. 

Finally meeting Parker’s questioning gaze, Bubba explained his cryptic advice on remembering and forgetting. “Move on and live your life ‘cause ya may neva’ see her again, but don’t give up and forget her. You’ll regret it, if ya end up with that second chance afta’ all.” 

“I could never forget her, Bubba.” 

“Yeah, ya could,” his friend corrected gently. “Ya take all that hurt ya got bottled up, find some way to blame her for it and you can forget her... or hate her.” 

He continued on, sensing that Parker had gotten his mind around things, “Go on with your life, Parka’. Just keep her tucked away. If ya see her again... well, it’ll surprise ya how quick it all comes back. It’ll be like she neva’ left.” 

“I understand what you’re saying, Bubba, but what if it’s not that easy? A lot can happen in a year... two or three... more.” 

“Afraid ya might meet anotha’ nice girl and settle down?” 

“I know the odds are against it...” 

“I'm not teasin’ ya, son. You might do just that,” Bubba soothed. “It’s a risk. I won’t lie to ya and say it’s not. All ya can do is let life take ya where it wants ya to go.” 

Parker muttered, “You’re not much help," but the expression on his face suggested otherwise. 

Bubba smiled modestly, then noticed Bill Gillespie pulling into his reserved parking space. The older man would likely put a quick stop to their palaver. 

As Bill took note of their presence, Bubba looked back to Parker. “It’ll work out, Parka’. Maybe not exactly the way ya expect it will, but it’ll work out.” 

Coming on the scene, Bill looked the two men over as if disgusted. “All I need is Carter to see you two like this. Stop giving him filler for that trash receptacle he calls a column.” 

Parker glanced to a tired Bubba and then back to the chief. He hopped up and presented the brightest smile he could muster, but it was too late. He wouldn’t be able to divert the chief’s wrath. 

Eyeing Bubba, the chief barked, “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Just needed some air, Chief.” 

“Why?” 

Bubba stood slowly, proving that he was fine. The look on his face suggested his reply would be sharp and unpleasant. 

Parker tried to intervene before an argument could start, but failed miserably. He was forced to listen to the two bicker and he considered it all his fault. When Parker didn’t think he could take anymore, the chief considered the fight won and walked away. 

Parker, suddenly feeling a loss of patience with both men, asked Bubba, “What’s with you two?” 

“He’s always nitpickin’ ‘bout somethin’,” Bubba mumbled, too tired to go into much detail at the moment. 

Parker squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration, something he rarely did. “And you don’t give him a bit of reason to, now do you.” 

Bubba sighed, knowing he was guilty. He sometimes baited the old man and he knew it. He also knew why. 

The fact that Parker often got stuck in the middle didn’t escape him either. When the chief was irritated, he often took it out on Parker, having grown so used to the man being able to take it. “Sorry, Parka’.” 

Parker begged, “Just tell me what’s going on.” 

“It’s... complicated.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Althea had already spent too much of her morning on the telephone and it wasn’t even lunch yet. When she had been told she had a call on line two, she didn’t know what to expect. The receptionist had given her no clue except a strange smile. With the sort of individuals that came through her door, an obscene call wouldn’t surprise her any. It certainly wouldn’t have been her first. 

She answered with level care, giving her name and title. It could be a pervert, but it could also be the man who signed her paycheck. 

“This a bad time?” she was asked. 

Considering she would know that voice anywhere, she had to laugh. With thoughts of obscene phone calls fresh in her mind, she wondered if Bubba would talk dirty to her if she asked. She filed the idea away, thinking it might be fun, but today wasn’t the day for it. 

She sighed, “You’re giving me an excuse to stay in here and hide. You couldn’t have picked a better time.” 

“Bad day, huh?” 

“Very... and if you have bad news, just hang up now. I can’t take anymore,” she teased. 

Silence hung heavy on the line for a moment and she started to fear that he did have bad news. 

He finally broke the silence, “I know I really shouldn’t be botherin’ ya at work.” 

“Work? What’s that?” 

She didn’t know it, but he was smiling fondly, thinking of how much she loved her job. Of course, even she had her bad days and he wished today wasn’t one of them. “I’ve had somethin’ on my mind all day.” He paused only long enough to take a breath, then said, “You was angry with me ‘bout somethin’ weren’t ya... last night?” 

 _A little slow, but astute_ , she thought lightly. “I was a little irritated, yes.” 

“Angry,” he corrected. 

“No. _Irritated_. There’s a difference... and we’ll discuss it later.” 

“How ‘bout now,” he stressed firmly. 

“Bubba...,” She wanted to argue that she didn’t have the time, but that wasn’t true. It was a pretty cut and dry situation. 

“I _can’t_ tell you. This is something you have to figure out for yourself... and I’m not trying to play mind games with you.” 

She sighed heavily, knowing she was coming across badly. “I hate to admit this, but you’re _too_ eager to do what I ask of you. I want you to do this because you want to... not because I’ve asked you to.” 

“And ya can’t tell me what this _somethin_ ’ is?” he asked worriedly, wondering what god awful thing he had done to manage to land himself in a mess like this. Althea seldom bit her tongue. 

“It’s not bad, Bubba. You’ll understand when you figure it out... and you will. I have faith that you will.” She did have faith. She had so much faith in him, when he obviously had so little in himself, that it almost made her cry at times. 

“So... am I s’posed to figua’ this out ‘fore I can see ya again?” 

“Of course not,” she quickly replied, “I’d love to see you... soon.” 

When Althea finally replaced the receiver into its cradle, she was still reeling from his question. More specifically, it was the tone of it. It had been a glimpse into his self-doubt. He obviously thought he could lose her in an instant. 

Althea chastised herself, as her hand lingered on the phone wistfully. She had been so focused on his commitment to the relationship that she had made little attempt to prove her own commitment. A man didn’t want to stick his neck out for a woman when he wasn’t sure where it would get him. 

A knock at her office door brought her out of her musing. The clinic receptionist was still wearing the same grin as before. “He sounds cute. Is he cute?” 

“Who?” Althea asked, her mind still elsewhere. A few things on her desk still required her attention and she was having a hard enough time focusing on those, getting ready to move on to tasks she had let linger for too long. 

“Your boyfriend,” the other woman sighed, thinking Althea was playing coy. 

Althea stopped in mid movement to pick up her favorite pen. “He said he was my boyfriend?” she asked numbly. 

She felt strangely intoxicated as the young woman nodded. The feeling was quickly replaced with a mixture of fondness and guilt almost too intense to bear. _He’s trying... he really is trying. I shouldn’t have expected so much from him so soon._  

Realizing the young brunette was eyeing her expectantly, Althea explained, expecting another woman to understand, “We haven’t been together all that long.” 

To Althea's relief, the understanding about men appeared to be universal and she received a knowing nod from the secretary. 

Glancing at the calendar on her desk, Althea wondered in mild shock, _Nine day_ s? 

Why did it feel like so much longer that that? Why did she keep expecting so much from him after... _nine days?_ _Because it’s been longer than that... in some ways._  

She hastily grabbed up her paperwork to have filed, all while realizing she had no right to expect so much from Bubba if she couldn’t even figure things out for herself. _It’s so... complicated._  

“So, what’s his name? Maybe I know him,” the young receptionist asked, becoming overwhelmed with curiosity. 

Althea recalled Bubba’s words, _Tell whoever y_ _a_ _want whatever y_ _a_ _want._  

With the question simply answered, Althea watched a skeptical expression come to the brunette’s face. 

“Not quite what you were expecting?” Althea laughed. With the young woman at an obvious loss for words, Althea confessed warmly, “He wasn’t quite what I was expecting either.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Dr. Robb kept his personal comments to himself. He had given up on his mission to get Lonnie Jamison to take better care of himself. He had given up on a lot of missions related to the Sparta PD. 

He had given up suggesting Bill Gillespie retire. He had given up telling Bubba Skinner to stop being such a daredevil. He had even given up telling Parker Williams that there were things he could try that might just put a little hair back on his head. 

Parker was just as stubborn as the rest, assuring the good doctor that if he was intended to have hair, he would have it. Lots of it! 

 _Well, at least I have something for him_ , Robb thought, wishing he had more to offer. It would have been nice to relieve the young man of some of his burdens. The dark smudges under Lonnie’s eyes spoke of too much work to bear. 

“Detective, sit down there. I’ve got something for you, but it takes a little longer for me to get from point A to point B these days. It’ll take me a bit to fetch it.” 

Lonnie didn’t comment, knowing Robb was no less spry than Bill Gillespie. Yes, it took the chief a little longer to get from point A to point B too, but he would get there and heaven help anyone who tried to prevent him from doing so. 

With all of his pending cases, Lonnie wasn’t about to assume which case the older man was referring to and as usual, he would gladly accept any bit of luck in his favor. 

With the folder placed in his hand and Robb not uttering a word, it was a shock to read the name McGinnis on the tab. “You found something?” Lonnie asked, far more cautiously than was typical for him. 

“Not much... but something,” the doctor replied. 

As Lonnie perused the paperwork, Robb explained, “I found a tiny fragment under one of the poor boy’s fingernails. The lab was kind enough to give me a quick preliminary as to what it might be. It was obvious to me that it was synthetic....” 

After Robb had given the brief rundown of what could be found in greater detail in the report, Lonnie stood and shook the other man’s hand firmly. 

“Don’t you retire before I do,” Lonnie teased, though deep down, he really wished that the coroner could remain at his post forever. Small town doctor or not, the man knew his trade and knew it well. He didn’t get the credit he so often deserved. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

It had sounded like an excellent idea over the phone. They would get together for lunch, allowing them a little quiet time to catch up before the chaos set in. Now, Althea struggled to reconnect with a man who was suddenly feeling to her like a stranger. She took a single bite of her chicken salad sandwich. That was all her nerves would allow. 

“They’ve missed you,” she admitted. 

Virgil’s strained smile suggested he’d had his doubts. 

“I didn’t tell them you were arriving today. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get them off to school if I did.” 

She almost started in on a related story, but caught herself. He had heard them all already. He had called often and even though the situation had interrupted his visitation, he had sent his child support on time as always. He had offered more if she needed it. All she had to do was ask. That was one of the many things that left her feeling guilty about what had happened between them. 

All she had to do was ask and she knew he would give her whatever she desired. She passed on another attempt at eating as she thought, _That includes him._  

She wasn’t naive or blind. Their final mutual split-up was not as mutual as he let on. 

“Virgil?” 

“Hmm?” he responded, looking up from his own lunch. 

“How are things going for you?” 

“Couldn’t be better,” he replied. A genuine grin lit his face. 

Feeling better, she managed a few nibbles. She had worried that along the way, he might change his mind. She worried that Mississippi wasn’t really where he wanted to be anymore. She knew better than most how a person could change, sometimes without even knowing it themselves, until it was too late. 

“And you?” Virgil asked. 

“The job’s going well. Better than I had hoped.” 

“Isn’t there more to life than work?” he teased. 

Now tearing a piece from her sandwich as it laid on her plate, she surrendered, “I’m seeing someone.” 

“Really?” His expression was just as mixed as his emotions. He wanted to pretend that he hadn’t caught on. He wanted to not care. He wanted to care and be happy for her. He wanted to laugh at her, finding a relationship between her and Bubba comical. He wanted to scold her for taking such a risk and above all else, he wanted to ask her to kindly give back all the sweat and tears he had put into trying to salvage their relationship. 

She wiped her hands on her napkin and sipped her soda, stalling to rein in her temper. He was obviously playing ignorant to taunt her. “Virgil, don’t play games with me... please. This is hard enough as it is.” 

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly. He’d played out a similar scenario a hundred times in his head, with hopes of coming off as supportive and mature, but he had managed to screw it up already. _No wonder she wants to move on._  

“And yes, it’s exactly who you think it is,” she sighed in tired annoyance. 

He shook his head slightly. “This isn’t the best time to tell me what I think... I don’t know what I feel or think right now. Baby, I....” 

She ordered as gently as she could, “Don’t call me that.” 

He’d had two paths before him in his life for years now. Either one day she would be his once again or the day would come when he couldn’t call her baby anymore. Other men had come and gone, but she had never put this much distance between them before. 

Finally, in a last ditch effort to walk away with his dignity intact, he admitted, “It's time that we both moved on. _Really_ moved on.” 

It was now the beginning of a new work week and Althea had heard nothing from Bubba since Friday. Even as she discussed her new relationship, she was beginning to wonder where that relationship was headed, but that made no difference now. Virgil was right, it was time to move on, no matter what. 

She looked down at her plate, hiding the pain of reality that she knew was showing in her eyes. Going back was not an option and closing any door in one’s life was rarely pleasant. 

This was not turning into the soul freeing experience she had hoped it would be. It merely left a cold void somewhere within her. She had married this man and had his children. This wasn’t the way her fairy tale was supposed to end. _Over mediocre chicken salad_ , she thought bitterly, pushing her sandwich aside. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Dusk was settling in and so was a light drizzle. Bubba looked up, letting the damp settle on him like he had as a child. “We’re just waitin’ for the lab results to come back. The case is thin. Real thin. Help if the lab could give us somethin’ betta’ to take to the judge.” 

“DNA?” Althea inquired. The rain that Bubba was so thoroughly enjoying spelled disaster for her hair. If it got any worse, she would be forced to cry uncle and retreat to drier ground. 

“No such luck. All we can hope for is that we can narra’ what we found down to the manufacturer. Maybe then we can find out where it was purchased and by who... well, we already know the who, but some proof would be nice.” 

Bubba finally gave her the attention he had been giving the darkening gloom over head. He visibly started at the sight of her looking so miserable standing there in the rain. “Why didn’t ya say somethin’?” 

“A little rain never hurt anyone.” 

He pulled her to him and shielded her exposed parts with his coat. “Didn’t your daddy eva’ tell ya sweet stuff melts in the rain?” 

“Why would he? He’s always considered me the troublemaker,” Althea replied lightly. 

His compliment wasn’t lost on her and neither was his sudden tenderness towards her. Things were still okay between them. 

She snaked her arms around him, still sheltered under his coat. “I was starting to think you had forgotten about me.” 

He was getting the impression that she was happier than usual to see him and he had an idea as to why. It was the very reason he had showed up on her doorstep. “Virgil showed up down at the station,” he admitted. 

“I’m sorry about that. He called me last night. That’s all the warning he gave me.” 

“Ya don’t have to keep me updated. I just didn’t want ya fightin’ any battles on your own.” He shrugged. “Not that Virgil would be that way... just wanted my presence known, in case ya needed me.” 

She snuggled up against him. She had just been given a sign of the solidarity she had been hoping for. It was only a first step and not a particularly difficult one, with Bubba already aware that Virgil probably knew about the two of them, but it was still a definite step forward. 

Her faith in him hadn’t gone to waste. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Coach.” 

He didn’t know how to respond, thinking it was the least he could do and that he should have done more and done it a lot sooner. Suddenly uncomfortable, he sighed, “I should be gettin’ ya home.” 

“Oh no,” she groaned. She had never been more eager to let a man whisk her away for an evening in her life. The twins had been out of control and Virgil was not only allowing it, but loving it. 

“I’m in no hurry to go back," she admitted, "I’ll just let daddy deal with them. The twins _and_ Virgil.” 

Bubba could imagine Calvin finally losing his temper and demanding order. _And I’m sure he’d get it._  

 _H_ _e_ hated to ruin the mood, but he couldn’t hope for a better opening. “Speakin’ of your daddy... I don’t think he’s real happy with me.” 

“All fathers give the boyfriend the evil eye. It’s tradition.” She gazed up from under her makeshift umbrella, smiling in a way that assured that her choice of words had been deliberate. 

He gave her the smile he reserved for when he was happy that she was happy. As it quickly faded, she knew her father had been up to more than his usual pranks. 

“What did my father say?” she asked, knowing all too well exactly how difficult her father could be. 

“Nothin’ I didn’t have comin’,” Bubba admitted. “I just didn’t feel right discussin’ us... _you_... with him. Feels like we’re makin’ your decisions for ya... that's not right.” 

She repeated her question, but more gently, “What did he say to you?” 

As they walked, Bubba reluctantly replied. Not only had Calvin questioned him about Tracy, but he had also had a few things to say recently about the couple taking things too fast, especially the speed at which Bubba had left one woman for another and wasn’t looking back. 

Bringing them to a stop, Althea put her hands to Bubba’s face. The look in her eyes assured him that if he wanted fast, she would gladly oblige. She kissed him passionately to stress the point. 

When his look after that still didn’t match her enthusiasm, she asked, “Is it his meddling that's troubling you or is it that you think he’s right?” 

“Well, your daddy’s pretty open ‘bout what he thinks,” Bubba admitted with an uncomfortable chuckle. “It’s what _you_ think that worries me. Just wonda’ if he says what you don’t have the heart to say.” 

Just as she had feared, Bubba wasn’t all that sure of how she felt about him. He wasn’t sure how much she trusted him when it came to his past, especially his ex-wife. She was blunt with him. “You left another woman for me. Who says you won’t leave me for someone else... is that it?” 

He nodded slightly. “I can’t fault your daddy for havin’ a problem with it... or you. Is that what’s been botherin’ ya? What ya couldn't tell me... that I had to figua' out for myself? Are ya havin’ doubts?” 

Despite the rain, she lifted her head defiantly and stated firmly, “I don’t have a problem with it. I know you're with me now. I don't have any doubts about that or anything else.” 

Seeing skepticism sweep over his expression, she added, “Have I ever lied to you?” 

“No, can’t say that ya have.” 

And there was the glaring difference between her and so many of the other women who had come and gone in his life. She had never lied to him. The way he stroked her cheek told her how much that meant to him. 

She asked, “So why would I lie to you now?” 

Satisfied, Bubba conceded softly, “You wouldn’t.” 

She touched his face again and fingered a few strands of his wet hair. “My father is just testing you... and you must be passing with flying colors, because he still speaks highly of you.” 

He leaned into her touch, like a cat begging for affection. “How ‘bout you? Would you give me a passin’ grade?” 

“I don’t know,” she feigned uncertainty, then smiled coyly. “You haven’t passed your physical yet.” 

Far from drenched, she still yearned to get out of her clothes for more reasons than one. She wanted him, but she also wanted to lose herself for awhile. She wanted to forget the chaos that was her life. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Hearing the dead bolt on the front door disengage, Bubba only glanced in that general direction and went back to lounging in the dark. With Knothead napping on his chest, he stroked the dog to soothe his nerves. He’d had all the locks changed for a reason and he didn’t appreciate her taking privileges with his spare key. A spare key he hadn't offered her and until two seconds ago, he thought still hung in the front hall. 

He listened as she seemed to be doing the same. When her movements finally quickened towards him, he knew her eyes had adjusted. 

Tracy clicked on the nearest lamp. “Why are you just lying around in the dark? It’s not that late.” 

“Why are you waltzin' in uninvited?” he asked frigidly. 

With his attitude, she wasn’t eager to admit to what she had come looking for. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, or any other, if he wanted to be bitchy. 

She didn’t have to admit to anything, it didn’t take much for her ex to figure it out. Bubba closed his eyes, trying not to think about how many times she had likely pulled this trick with other men. 

As he heard her meander into the kitchen, he admitted to himself that having a woman just let herself in looking for a good time was pretty erotic. Unfortunately, it was Tracy and that drained every bit of desire out of him. 

Knowing how she could be, he decided that ignoring her was the best course of action. She wanted attention and she would settle for a fight if that’s all she could get. At worst, if ignored, she would throw a small tantrum, maybe throw a few dishes too, then storm out. 

Soon Bubba was nearly asleep. He took vague notice of Knothead getting up to stretch and trot to his water bowl. As the dog lapped the liquid, his brown eyes took in the tall blonde doing something at the kitchen counter. 

Tracy turned and ordered him to go slurp water somewhere else. 

Knothead hung his head and looked to the living room for assistance. With Bubba now asleep, he knew he wouldn’t get any help. He tucked his tail and found a place to disappear into. The couch would give him no sanctuary. The dog knew the routine, certain that her company would soon be chosen over his. 

Tracy glared after the mongrel, wishing old age would finally catch up with it. _I hate that dog,_ she snorted to herself, before making a second attempt at inspecting the bottle in her hand. 

The others didn’t interest her, but this one did. The natural born blackmailer in her savored the possibilities, but a deeper part of her was afraid. She knew him. He didn’t acknowledge as much, but she did know him and he wouldn’t be taking something like this without a reason. 

Tracy’s conscience battled against her need for control over him. _It would be so easy..._  

Her conscience won out, remembering how he would look at her. How he would hold her and make her feel safe. There had been a time when he would have done anything for her. Worse, he would still do anything for her. If she really needed his help, she could count on him. Always. Even after everything... 

She went to the couch and woke him gently. She asked as calmly as she could, “You’re still taking these. Why?” 

Bubba rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and immediately knew he was in trouble, having a prescription bottle shoved under his nose. He refused to look closely at it. “Why are you still here?” he grunted coldly. 

She prodded him, wanting an answer. 

“I want my spare key back.” He held out his hand. 

With all the courage he could muster, he made a daring move that he was really not in a position to make. “And I don’t want ya comin’ ‘round here anymore.” 

“Is it because of this?” she shook the bottle, making the few remaining pills rattle. 

Angry, because right now, she was trying, really trying to reach out to him for real, she snorted, “Or is it because you’re fucking Althea Tibbs?” 

Bubba wondered if Tracy had just taken a shot in the dark or if she had been prowling around. Althea had certainly tried admirably to get him into bed and she had stayed long enough to give the impression that she had succeeded. He had only taken her home an hour ago. 

Refusing to answer and wanting her intentions out in the open, Bubba asked, “How ugly you gonna’ make this, Tracy?” 

She had thought about using the pills against him and he obviously thought her capable of doing just that. It hurt in a way that surprised her. It also scared her, because he needed help and he wouldn’t be quick to accept it from her. 

“Bubba, no matter what I’ve done in the past, I’ve never wanted you _hurt_... not like this.” 

He stared ahead, unreadable. 

She pleaded, “If you’re still in this kind of pain, you need to see a doctor.” 

Still being ignored, she closed her eyes, as if shutting everything else out could some how focus her words and drill them in. She would have closed her ears too if she could. She had never spoken with more conviction, “Bubba, don’t make me do this.” 

Being a cop was in his blood. It was what he lived for and she understood that better than he would ever realize. 

“You’d tell the chief?” he finally asked with cold detachment. 

“If I have to.” 

“He wouldn’t believe you.” 

The truth stung her deeply. He was right. What had she become? 

Blinking back tears that felt painfully alien to her, she dug the spare key from her purse and placed it in his waiting hand. She hesitated, but finally deposited the pill bottle on top of it.

 

To Bubba’s surprise, she leaned forward and gave him one long wistful kiss to the forehead. Without another word, she was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Hearing voices, Althea slowed her descent down the stairs. 

She recognized Virgil’s voice saying, “He’s a cop. She won’t accept that.” 

Then she recognized another voice as her father’s, jabbing, “She accepted _you_ for long enough.” 

Virgil replied in exasperation, “Her patience with the job ran out, Calvin. By the end, she wasn’t _accepting_ it. She was _enduring_ it... hoping that one day I’d give it up... and I did.” 

Calvin moved in to claim his victory in the argument. “And _that’s_ when she left you.” 

What he said next almost escaped Althea, muttered so low that even Virgil could barely hear it. “Didn’t want to be married to a lawyer, if you ask me.” 

Taking the two men by surprise, Althea stated, “And of course, neither of you have bothered to ask _me_ _._ ” 

She shot an angry glance at Virgil, but saved the worst for her father. She could understand this behavior out of Virgil. He was more emotionally involved, with deeper and fresher wounds to lick. It was his ex-wife, his children, his old friend and his home town. 

Her father's behavior, on the other hand, had her baffled. Patience with her father was usually plentiful, understanding his quirks better than others did, buthis recent meddling had used up most of her tolerance. 

The startled expression on Virgil’s face melted into shame, but Calvin’s remained smug. He thought being on his baby girl’s side would spare him. He received an even more scathing look and realized he had thought wrong. 

“Well?” she asked, opening her arms, ready to receive whatever else they might like to say. “Here’s your chance. Ask.” 

She glared at one man, then the other. “Or would you rather just _tell me_ what I’m supposed to think.” 

She retracted her offer to hear either of them out by crossing the room with a sudden indifference, coldly dismissing their existence. If either man had any sense, he wouldn’t attempt to argue with her now. With practiced efficiency, she laid out bowls, spoons and a half empty gallon of milk on the kitchen table. The cereal boxes were saved for last, placed in the center. 

Virgil knew he had been caught red handed, questioning Althea’s personal decisions behind her back. He had no defense and he knew it, but he risked breaking the silence anyway. His good intentions might score him some clemency. _Some_ , he hoped. 

He explained, “You weren’t happy before, Thea. I just... want you to be happy _now_.” 

“She seemed happy enough until you showed up,” Calvin interjected gruffly, unable to resist any opportunity to jab his former son-in-law. 

Althea shot her father a fierce glare, hissing, “Daddy, you're _not_ helping.” 

Calvin snorted back stubbornly, “He’s playing the same game he always plays.” 

Virgil finally lost what little tolerance he had for the older man and began to close the gap between them, asking combatively, “What game is that, Calvin?” 

Althea could feel the situation slipping out of her control and with it any chance of keeping her children from witnessing it. 

“Enough!” she ordered forcefully, but both men ignored her. 

She had to resort to pulling Virgil into the adjacent laundry room, where she closed the folding door hastily behind them. The door was new and flimsy compared to the rest of the aging house. It didn't feel adequate to stand between the two angry men. 

Still, it provided her with a temporary reprieve. She exhaled a breath that she didn’t even know she had been holding. As she did so, she realized the strangely symbolic nature of what she had done by closing the door. She had boldly cut her father out of her relationship with Virgil in a way that even he couldn’t miss. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

“It was a good idea, Parker. It’s just not going anywhere,” Lonnie admitted as he went through his morning routine. He had just arrived at the station and Parker had wasted no time coming to him with his concerns. 

“Lonnie, we’re close. I can feel it,” Parker pleaded. He kept his voice down, but his head up. He was watching for the chief, though it was earlier than the older man usually started his day. 

Their sporadic surveillance from atop the industrial park water tower had managed to creep into its third week without being discovered. Unfortunately, it had also been without success. 

“We’re just stretched too thin to keep this up.” Lonnie peered around cautiously, catching Parker’s paranoia. “And considering the chief doesn’t know about it and you keep dozing off at your desk, count yourself lucky that we're calling this thing off before you ever got caught.” 

“I’ll be more careful,” Parker assured. 

Though the solitude was good for Parker’s broken heart, spending time almost every night on the tower wasn’t good for much else. He couldn’t deny that other parts of his life and his other duties had suffered. 

Lonnie gave a slow shake of his head as he was deciding to assert his authority. “If they haven’t done anything yet, they’re not going to. Whatever they’re up to, it doesn’t have them moving around much.” 

Seeing his friend’s long expression grow even longer, Lonnie tried to be encouraging. “At least we know what they’re _not_ doing.” 

With no reaction from Parker at all, the detective finally admitted with a dramatic sigh, “I can’t tell you what to do on your own time.” 

Lonnie briefly glimpsed a bit of the old excitable Parker and it felt like old times as he added the warning, “But the chief can tell you to do a lot of things if he catches you napping out there... and none of them will be good.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Althea knew all too well that Iron Jaw Peterson took great pleasure in confrontation. The twins would descend to the breakfast table to find their grandpa bright eyed, chipper and eager to see them. Their parents, on the other hand, needed a respite and were taking it. 

Althearubbed a tight place over her right eye, familiar with the feeling of pressure there that was a sign of an impending headache. Stress was the most common trigger for her. 

Not wanting anymore anxiety, she deliberately blocked any exit from the small laundry nook with her own body. Virgil could sometimes be volatile, especially with Calvin. He could very well decide to charge back into the fight. If her children hadn’t been elsewhere in the house, she would have been tempted to let him do just that. _Let them fight it out for a change_ , she thought with disgust, weary of playing referee. 

Not having that luxury and knowing she never really would, she muttered, “He’s just pushing your buttons.” 

Virgil managed a weak smile. “You think?” 

With a common foe established to bond them, she now felt confident that he wouldn’t try to make a run for it. She stepped away from the door and sighed, “I thought we were a team.” 

“Thea, I was just thinking out loud.” 

“No,” she corrected, “What you were doing was skulking around down here, trying to convince my father that he needs to help you talk me out of... what were you going to call it, Virgil? A mid life crisis? Desperation?” 

“I was actually trying to talk _him_ out of something.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Finding himself backed against a wall, Virgil stalled. He could see the argument unfolding before him, in which he would get sucked into a quagmire of questions. The worst of which being, _why do you care_ and _what do you have against Bubba_. 

Knowing it was just a matter of time before those questions came in some form or another, he admitted, “Pushing you into something _he_ wants.” 

“And what does he want, Virgil?” 

“What he’s always wanted. You involved with another cop.” 

She crossed her arms and sighed with indignation, “So, I’m just being manipulated.” 

“No.” Exasperated with his inability to express himself, Virgil paused to gather up his argument, then added, “I don’t think you’re being manipulated... you’re just... being a little short sighted and I don’t think your father giving you biased counsel is helping... or fair. It’s not fair to you... or Bubba.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Marissa leaned forward against her seat belt and extracted a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. After settling back into her seat, she unfolded the worn map with great care. 

She had ripped the page from an old road atlas she had come across during the first leg of her journey under protective custody. That had been months ago and the map showed signs that it had traveled close to her ever since. It was torn at the edges and starting to come apart where it had been folded to fit in her pocket. 

As the car traveled through yet another small burg before dawn, she took advantage of the street lamps and surveyed the page in her hands. Her chaperones were taking her further away from the small dot she could easily point out on the map. 

She could feel the miles ceaselessly stretching out as she was being pulled farther and farther from where she wanted to be. 

Marissa quickly and quietly refolded the Mississippi state map and hastily returned it to her pocket. She didn't have much room for sentimentality left in her life, with only a couple of small bags to carry her whole existence in, but she had plenty of time for it. She had nothing but time, it seemed. 

She had taken to flights of fancy about Parker's little home town. It was a pleasant escape. She could harmlessly lose herself in daydreams of what Parker might be doing. She passed the time wondering what adventures he might be facing as a small town cop. 

She fell back on those thoughts when things felt bleak, like now. Earlier, she had been overwhelmed by a dark premonition that she would never make it to California and the newest safe house there. 

She had reached out to Parker for happier thoughts. She imagined driving on and on and making it to California after all. She would make it all the way to the coast as planned and she would watch as the Pacific Ocean spread out on the horizon before her. 

Then, one quiet evening, under the safety and privacy of darkness, she would sneak out onto the beach, out onto the very edge of the world. She would dip her toes into that ocean for the first time in her life and Parker would know. Through the special connection they had, he would be there. 

No matter how grand and wonderful her imaginings, her doubts and fears remained. She feared she would never see the edge of the world. She feared that she would never make it back to the small town Parker Williams called home and get the opportunity to ask him if he had felt it. _Did you feel it, Parker? Were you there on the beach with me?_  

XXXXXXXXXX 

Althea muttered tiredly, “Virgil, please don’t be this way. I can’t take your jealousy right now.” 

“Is that the way it’s going to be? Anytime I have an opinion that contradicts yours, I’m just blind with jealousy?” 

“Alright.” She looked him in the eye defiantly and called his bluff, demanding proof that he wasn’t just coveting her or what she had found with someone else. “How am I being short sighted?” 

“Well, for starters, Bubba's a cop.” 

Althea dismissed his concerns with a questioning shrug that spoke for her, _And?_  

“All the years we were together and you expect me to believe that you’re going to be okay with this?” 

Thinking deeply, she turned from him and wiped away the lint that always seemed to collect on top of her electric dryer. When she had left Virgil years ago to return home to Philadelphia, he was no longer a cop. Never intending to get involved with one again, she had seldom seen the need to discuss that part of their past. 

Virgil had been a cop. He had left that career for one that turned out to be even more demanding. They had drifted apart and had never managed to fully reconnect again. That was the story and until now, both had seemed happy to leave it that way. 

She finally offered an answer. “I didn’t leave you for being a cop, Virgil. Daddy was right about that.” 

Virgil argued, “I never said you did, but I think we can both agree that you were pretty damn close to it more than once.” 

“Couples fight, Virgil. Something would happen. I’d get scared, then I’d get over it.” 

“You never got over it.” 

She replied bitterly, “Maybe it just seemed that way. I mean, it’s not like it ever stopped. It was always this town, or your job, or my job, or your family...” 

“Or yours,” he interrupted. 

“Fine, Virgil,” she sighed in defeat, “Daddy’s difficult. I’m admitting it. You win. Let it go.” 

Virgil wasn’t about to apologize in any way related to Calvin Peterson, but hurting her had not been his intention. His demeanor softened as he asked, “What’s changed, Thea? It’s the same town, the same people... you even insist on keeping the same job.” 

He forced on, even as she tried to argue. “You still listen to everyone _else’s_ problems.” 

She turned her gaze away again, as stark reality washed over her. Her career was just as much a component of their problems as his had been. She had wanted to go back to school when he had received his law degree and they had fought horribly over it. He had wanted her to get out of the field, telling her over and over again that she just took things too personally. She cared too much. 

He continued to batter at her defenses, sensing he was making headway. “Why did you come back here? There are so many places you could have gone. Even I didn’t come back to Sparta. If you wanted to be close for me... for your parents, why not Jackson? It’s more like Philadelphia than _here_.” 

“It was familiar,” she argued weakly, “I’ve been through enough, Virgil. Familiar, even with its problems, feels good... _safe_.” 

He wanted to believe that the community as a whole made her feel safe. He wanted to believe that _all_ the familiar faces made her feel at home here, not just one in particular. He didn’t want to think that down the road, she would feel like a fool for coming back to Sparta for all the wrong reasons. No matter how hard he wanted to believe her, his doubt still showed. 

Picking up on his disbelief, she continued, “It’s obvious you don’t accept my explanation for coming here. I’m sure you’ve come up with your own theories.” 

_Everyone has_ , she thought bitterly. 

It felt like they had been at each other for hours, but only now did Virgil hear the distinct sound of his children scrambling into their chairs at the kitchen table. He kept his voice low, saying, “I just want you to be happy and I don’t think you’re going to find that here.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Bubba had gone to bed with Tracy on his mind, so he wasn’t surprised that his alarm clock had buzzed in the midst of a bad dream. 

Usually, his troubles of the day before felt distant by morning, but not today. He laid in bed, with so much churning through his head that he had no fear of falling back to sleep. Tracy was just too unpredictable. _Too vindictive_ , he thought worriedly. 

Dropping his arm over the edge of the bed, Bubba found his hound right where the dog always curled up now that he was allowed in the bedroom. Offering the dog an affectionate scratching, Bubba rehashed his thoughts from the night before. 

He wondered how long Tracy might have been coming and going with the key she had pilfered. She had never cared for Knothead, but she had never seemed capable of doing anything to him that would explain his current behavior. She had never so much as swatted the dog with a newspaper that Bubba knew of. 

Bad behavior on her part or not, Tracy wasn’t the cause of the dog’s recent anxiety. The dog also wasn’t the only one suffering a feeling of unease. He felt it too and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t talk himself into blaming his ex for it. Well, not all of it anyway. For all he knew, last night was also the only night she had ever snuck in. 

Bubba leaned over the edge enough to raise the dog’s muzzle and peer into his eyes. He asked the dog, “Think she wants to whack me with an axe while I’m sleepin’?” 

Knothead’s expression remained eerily somber. The dog was just matching his master’s mood and Bubba knew it. “Perk up there, bud. She’d ratha’ kill me slow. I’m sure of it.” 

The dog couldn’t discern more than a dozen words in the English language, but light humor always translated, so he perked his ears and swished his tail. 

Bubba said no more, so the dog got to his feet, happy and playful. He didn’t know that his master’s mood was still wavering. Tracy would never resort to anything as drastic as murder, but she probably fantasized about it where he was concerned. 

With that dismal thought in his head, Bubba knew chances were slim that he had heard the last from her. If she thought she could hurt him, she wouldn’t be able to resist for long. 

He finally sat up and put his hands behind his head, thinking of how determined she had sounded the night before. He wasn’t fooled. Of course she didn’t want him hurt. Without him around, who else could she torture. His pain was to be hers and hers alone. Anyone or anything else inflicting it would somehow be stealing something from her. 

Feeling guilty, his faint bitter smile disappeared. Tracy had her faults, but she wasn’t quite the monster he often made her out to be. She might still talk herself into hurting him with what she knew, or thought she knew, but that would be later. For now, she had been honest with him. That meant now was the best time to repair whatever damage had been done. It meant talking to her before she did something _he’d_ regret. 

“Course, talkin’ to her usually just leads to more trouble,” he reminded the dog. 

_And I got no idea what to tell her._ As he worked through his possible options, the situation just looked bleaker and bleaker. 

He finally looked back to Knothead, who seemed to be growing impatient. He had thought Bubba was ready to get out of bed and do stuff. The dog lived for just _doing stuff_ with his buddy. 

When Bubba spoke to him, Knothead hoped it meant they would be doing fun stuff soon. “Let her think what she wants there, fur face. Nobody trusts her.” 

Bubba might have sounded certain to the dog, but he hadn’t sounded certain to himself. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Althea finally shook herself out of a stupor and began clearing the morning dishes off the table. So focused on her own thoughts, it took her a moment to recognize what Sarah was waving in her face. “Another field trip? Where in the world are you going now?” 

With his arm stuffed in a cereal box, Billy replied, “Some science thing.” 

He quickly crunched down a handful of Cheerios and grabbed another fistful before handing over his own permission slip. 

Althea signed both forms and handed them back. She didn’t have time to get clarification as to where and what this _science thing_ was. Just like she didn’t have time to reprimand them for waiting until the last minute to get her signature. The twins were running late for school, which was becoming the norm with them. _Something else Virgil won’t approve of_ , she thought in irritation, glad that he had decided to wait for the kids out in the car. 

With the twins out the back door, eager to get a lift to school in their father’s shiny new company car, Althea finally leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed at eyes that ached to cry, but couldn’t. It was just going to be one of those days. 

She moved to the back door just in time to see Virgil’s sedan ease out into the street. With a sudden chill coming over her, she removed her hooded sweatshirt off one of the pegs next to the door. It was one of those tattered things she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of. It had accompanied her out the door too many times to hand over lunch pails and umbrellas and her favorite thing, kisses. _They’re going to be too old for that soon._  

With a bittersweet smile, she slipped into the old sweatshirt and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Her reluctant tears finally came, but sparingly. Just a brimming around the edges that dabbed away easily. Just enough to make her feel like a weepy hormonal basket case. 

She felt inadequate as a mother, as a daughter and as a partner to both men in her life. Usually, she wouldn’t allow herself to fall into such a pity trap, but today she thought she would allow herself a temporary respite. She was juggling a hundred pieces of fine china, trying to keep everyone happy and damn it, that wasn’t easy. It only got harder when she didn’t allow herself to let off a little steam on occasion. 

With a sudden need to do something for herself, she looked to the clock, then picked up the phone with an air of defiance. 

“Hey... did I wake you?” She let out a warm laugh, then suggested, “I’ll take the day off, if you promise to stay in bed until I get there?” 

Her smile faded into a pout and she sighed, “Well, at least be careful out there for me, Coach. Promise?... Good!” 

She was soon hanging up with an intense feeling of loneliness creeping over her. Hearing Bubba’s voice had only made her miss him more. Need him more. _Worry about him more_ , she admitted, wondering if Virgil might be right. He had made some valid points, no matter what his motive had been. 

Turning away from the phone, she found that her father had returned and was watching her. Whatever he was thinking, she didn’t want him sharing it. She was currently feeling up to her neck in everyone else’s opinions. “I’ve gotten quite the earful from Virgil already. I don’t need it from you too.” 

“Did any of it sink in?” 

She stopped in the middle of closing a cereal box and studied her father, trying to read his exact intent. She couldn’t and was forced to ask, “Are you suggesting I should actually listen to Virgil?” 

Calvin smirked, noting his daughter’s sarcasm. “Virgil’s an idiot... but he does have his moments. He’s smart enough to know a good thing when he sees it.” 

He sighed, “Just not smart enough to know when it’s out of his league.” 

She put the cereal boxes away, glancing over her shoulder with a look warning her father that flattery would get him nowhere, though it was appreciated anyway. 

Gracing her with an impish smile, he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. He did so slowly, as if he had the morning aches that came with age, but it wasn’t age making him weary. 

His chances of having another cop in the family were fading away. Not just a cop, but a good cop and a good man. _Heaven knows she hasn’t had many of those come and go_ , he thought sadly, thinking of all the recent boyfriends he had disapproved of. Most of them vehemently so. 

No matter how disappointing it was to face harsh reality, or worse agree with Virgil Tibbs, Calvin had something he needed to say. “Bubba’s a cop. Plain and simple. No matter how well he treats you at home, he’ll always go off to a world you’ve never been able to find a personal balance with. You faked it for a long time, but it caught up with you. It’ll catch up with you again.” 

He hesitated, then asked, “What will you do when Bubba doesn’t want to change his life to suit you? I give Virgil a hard time, but he _did_ try. I know why he made the choices he did. He did it for you.” 

She sat down across from him, her poise showed fierce determination, not anger. “I don’t intend to ever ask that of Bubba. How much I love him... for how long... why... that’s none of your business and it’s none of Virgil’s business either. I _will_ tell you that I’ve learned from my mistakes. You’re right... Virgil’s right... I wanted him to change and he did and I found myself married to a man I couldn’t relate to anymore. I won’t make that mistake again. I had a lawyer... a boring, perfectly safe lawyer and _lost_ him. A career might be safe, but no relationship is guaranteed to be.” 

When her father had no comment, she looked past him to the clock on the wall. “I have to go to work.” She stood up quickly, with a sense of confidence that was refreshing in the midst of a morning so full of uncertainty and doubt, especially about herself. Even if she hadn’t convinced her father of anything, she had managed to convince herself. 

As she passed her father, he took her hand. Bringing her close, he told her, “You don’t have to prove that you’ve learned from your mistakes. You’re tough and being a cop’s girl is a tough job, but that doesn’t mean it’s the job for you.” 

He studied his daughter’s eyes. “This is not a test that you have to take over again.” 

She squeezed her father’s hand. “You’re right, I don’t have to. I want to.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

“You do whatever you think is best, Detective. We’ll back you one hundred percent... either way.” 

Lonnie’s gaze shifted from the motel room door to Luke. He appreciated Luke’s support. He also appreciated that Luke was able to understand the depth of the position he had been put into. He only had a few minutes in which to make a crucial decision. A decision on which a lot was riding, not just cases, but careers. 

“We could both go,” Luke offered. 

The younger man wanted to set himself up to shoulder half of any blame that might arise. Lonnie wasn't going to let it come to that. “Better if I go alone. Be less threatening that way.” 

“That’s what worries me,” Luke sighed. 

Motioning to the back of Luke’s cruiser, Lonnie added, “Somebody has to keep an eye on him. If he so much as breaks a nail, his parents will swear it was because we left him alone for two minutes.” 

Luke looked to the kid in the back of his car with annoyance. Even though the boy had given them an opportunity that they would have never gotten otherwise, Luke still found him irritating. If the kid hadn’t been rummaging through cars in the neighborhood and been caught, Lonnie wouldn’t be faced with the decision he had to make. 

Realizing he was being observed, the youth shook long tendrils of dirty blond hair out of his blue eyes and jerked his jaw up defiantly. Without all the disheveled hair covering his still soft features, the boy looked even younger. His expression was also easier to read now. A classic nonchalance painted thinly over fear bordering on terror. As a juvenile in trouble for the first time, he had no idea what he was in for, but wasn’t about to admit he was scared. 

Luke sensed Lonnie taking that first hesitant step forward and warned, “Don’t trust him.” 

“I don’t intend to.” With that said, Lonnie approached the red door that sported two metal numbers. Room twenty-three. He glanced to the sign next to the road that beckoned to travelers. _Dixie Lodge_. 

Lonnie hoped that when Isaac Chiaruttini opened that door, he could finally place the face that had seemed so oddly familiar to him. Outwardly, he was going to ask Chiaruttini if he had seen the kid in the back of Luke’s patrol car lurking around the motel's parking lot. Inwardly, he would be asking a whole lot more than that. He wasn't guaranteed any answers. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Bill knew the meaning of that particular rhythm of her walk and waited for her entrance. 

“I need to talk to you,” Harriet announced. 

“About?” Bill asked, not taking his eyes from the kitchen counter where he had just chopped half of a potent onion to go into the crock-pot for dinner. 

As if deciding it was a lost cause, she sighed heavily, “Never mind.” Without another word, she turned and walked away. 

Bill looked to the dog, who hadn’t bothered to even lift his head from his personal bean bag chair in the corner. “Have _you_ done something?” 

Beauregard only cocked his head. 

“Did _I_ do something?” 

The dog snorted. 

“Are we both so old that we have forgotten that we’ve done something?” 

The dog wagged his tail against his bed rhythmically. 

“You weren’t supposed to agree to that one,” Bill chastised, running his hands under cold water. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Luke leaned on his squad car and watched. He knew two cops for such a simple task would look suspicious and that’s why Lonnie had refused to let him tag along, but he would have felt better if he had gone along anyway. No one had yet had the pleasure of dealing with Isaac Chiaruttini up close and personal. Until one of them did, none of them really knew what kind of man they were dealing with. He could be even more dangerous than they suspected. 

With his car present, odds were good that Chiaruttini was present. Not wanting to botch things anymore than they were probably about to, Luke tried to look only casually interested. He didn’t try too hard, his gut telling him that Chiaruttini would smell trouble no matter what he did. 

Luke knew he would be suspicious if he were in Chiaruttini’s shoes. Especially with the cop on his doorstep being a detective, not a uniformed officer. 

A moment later, the exchange was over. Over too quickly in Luke’s opinion. 

When Lonnie finally strolled casually back to the cruiser, Luke noted that the lanky detective looked neither pleased nor displeased, just thoughtful. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Bill came up behind his wife and laid his hands gently on her tense shoulders. He then said gently, “ _Never mind_ is no way to conclude a conversation.” 

She placed her own hands over his. “I realized that I only had myself in mind....” 

“I truly doubt that,” he rebuked softly. 

She turned just enough to look at him. “Bill, I don’t think I can do it... sit there while they run you over the coals.” 

With a mischievous smile, he said, “You’ve done it before.” 

Turning away, arms now crossed at her chest, she snorted, “That was a long time ago... and don’t tell me we all have to do things we don’t like. I’ve been around far too long not to know that by now.” 

He rubbed her shoulders as an apology for upsetting her. 

Greedy or not, she couldn’t stop herself from suggesting it. “Skip the next meeting. They’ve made no specific request that you be there.” 

“Someone will have to be there.” 

The disappointment was evident in his voice. Times had changed. 

Harriet pleaded gently, “Send Luann. Take advantage of...” 

“I didn’t promote her to please them.” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t remind certain council members that you did something they _approve_ of.” 

As she watched yet another of her suggestions about improving the department’s situation roll off unconsidered, she lost her temper. “They’re more than willing to fight dirty, Bill. You’re going to have to do the same if you expect to win.” 

For a moment, she wondered if there was any reason why he wouldn’t want to win. “You have to get tough with the mayor... and if you won’t talk to Virgil, I will.” 

Before her eyes, he seemed to grow older as he admitted, “I’ve already talked to Virgil. In his opinion... his _legal_ opinion, Gary’s recommendation at the last council meeting was distasteful and inappropriate, but nothing more.” 

“And Virgil’s _personal_ opinion?” 

“I’m not repeating that part.” 

The tiny glimmer of hope that Bill had watched fade from his wife’s eyes only a moment before returned and brought a hint of a smile with it. Just like him, she was happy to know that Virgil was fitting back into the clan just as smoothly and quickly as Althea had. 

Bill continued, “He’s offered what assistance he can. Though we don’t have a legal leg to stand on, he’s volunteered to snoop around as if we _did_. Some of the members of the council may not feel as comfortable speaking on Randall’s behalf if they fear facing the consequences of overstepping their boundaries.” 

“Make them think twice before opening their mouths again,” Harriet reiterated to herself. 

Bill reasoned, “The citizenry hasn’t turned on us yet. They’re the last major ally we have. As long as the council refrains from sticking any more foolish notions into their heads, we may keep them.” 

He became suspicious as what he thought was a bright reassurance seemed to darken her mood. 

She avoided his gaze, knowing it would be silently questioning her. She finally answered his gaze with a question of her own, “Did you and Virgil happen to talk about anything else?” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

“Did you make our guest comfortable?” Lonnie inquired, seeing Bubba step out of the office and close the door. 

The blinds on the door were up and their young suspect was easily visible, sitting on the sofa clutching a soda as if someone taking it from him would mean his instant death. Bubba took one last glance at the teen and turned back to Lonnie, responding, “Well, he’s about as comfortable as anybody in his position could be with the chief sittin’ two foot from him.” 

Age had thinned Bill’s hair a little and gnarled his hands, but his mere presence could still get some people to confess, not a word from him being necessary. 

As if to prove he still had a knack, Bill merely adjusted the spectacles perched on his nose and the teen nearly spilled his precious drink. 

Lonnie looked away from the comical sight and said, “You’re getting soft, Bubba. I remember when you wouldn’t have given that kid as much as a glass of water.” 

Bubba looked a little sheepish, admitting, “Chief came in already stewin’ ova’ somethin’. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance.” 

With that said, each man went his own way. Lonnie left the chief in privacy, not really wanting to be present when the parents came calling and Bubba grabbed his coat and hat, off to patrol. 

An hour later, Bubba was back, feeling curious about what had become of their young petty larcenist and feeling even more curious about what had transpired at the motel. Luke had been kind enough to tell him what Lonnie had neglected to. It wasn’t as much an interest in Chiaruttini as an interest in Lonnie’s condition that sent him looking for the detective. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

“I still can’t place him, Bubba. I went out on a limb for nothing,” Lonnie admitted guiltily. 

“If your gut told ya it was the thing to do, then it was the thing to do,” Bubba assured. 

“I’ve jeopardized the case.” 

“Ya can’t be sure of that... and if things had gone right, you wouldn’t be standin’ there regrettin’ doin’ what ya did, now would ya.” 

After a pause that Lonnie seemed unwilling to break, Bubba added, “Just hang in there. If we’re meant to catch ‘em, we will.”  


With that said, Bubba turned away. 

Lonnie watched as the upbeat and optimistic version of his friend faded before his eyes. He looked to find whatever had put such a disconcerted expression on Bubba’s face. He found it down the hall and surprisingly, _she_ was looking right back at him. 

“Any idea what she wants?” Lonnie asked puzzled, unable to imagine anything luring Tracy into a place where she was now so unwelcome. 

“Maybe,” Bubba admitted, keeping his gaze locked on his ex-wife. _Don’t do this to me, Tracy_.


	10. Chapter 10

Althea choose the seat closest to the window. With sunshine being so rare during the past week, she wanted to soak it up while she could. Even before settling into her chair, she asked Harriet, “So, what’s all the rush?” 

Seating herself across the small table from her friend, Harriet admitted, “I’m not sure.” 

She quickly added with mischief, “Maybe she’s pregnant.” 

Althea doubted that Dee Shepherd, especially at her age, would blunder into an unplanned pregnancy or worse, rush into a shotgun wedding because of it. Of course, pregnancy made for better gossip. 

“Or maybe she just wants to get out of this town in a hurry,” Harriet added, looking at Althea as if she were certain the same thing had crossed her friend’s mind. 

Althea cracked a smile and mocked, “Now who would want to leave a beautiful town like Sparta?” 

“I’m more curious as to who would want to come back.” 

“Dee and Luann will be here any minute. If we’re going to gossip about _them_ , now is the time to do it.” 

“I’ve just gotten so used to gossiping about _you_.” 

“I’m old news,” Althea replied lightly. 

The look she received was pensive. Harriet had gone from jovial to reflective so suddenly, Althea couldn’t help but think she had missed something. She scanned the cafe, expecting to see someone or something of interest. With nothing found, she resorted to asking, “Penny for your thoughts?” 

Harriet knew her friend was wrong. She was far from old news and Harriet feared what trouble Althea’s denial might eventually bring her. To prove Althea was just that, in denial, Harriet teased, “Oh, I’m just curious to see who’ll be getting married next.” 

Althea sighed and quickly assured, “It’s certainly not going to be me. I’ve got one ex husband too many. I don’t need to set myself up to have another one anytime soon.” 

“But you _are_ seeing someone?” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Tracy unlocked her car door and placed her purse in the driver’s seat. She returned her attention to her ex. With a sarcastic smirk, she continued their conversation, “Of course, no one’s believing me.” 

“I believe ya,” Bubba stated honestly. 

Strange events of late made it hard not to. Tracy insisted someone had followed her home after leaving his place the night before and she suspected the same individual had followed her again that morning. 

Believing her story didn’t mean he believed the department had shrugged her off like she was insisting. “If it happens again....” 

Laughing bitterly, she scoffed at his benevolence, “Call the police? Call you? You’re just trying to stay on my good side... and we both know why.” 

His compassion quickly spent, Bubba replied dryly, “You don’t _have_ a good side.” 

Tracy couldn’t summon up a fierce comeback. Since the night before, she had been questioning her own character, growing keenly aware of a moral obligation to do something if what she suspected about Bubba was true. 

She finally admitted in defeat, “You’re right. I don’t have a good side.” 

With that said, she hastily tossed her purse aside and slid into the driver’s seat of her blue coupe. With the door closed, she started the engine, slammed the car into gear and boldly slipped into a space between passing traffic. She loved her midnight blue Mazda, but often drove it like she didn’t. She treated a lot of things in her life that way. 

Watching her go, Bubba thought, _Well, that could have gone betta’_. 

He was still uncertain of exactly what Tracy had told the chief. Worse, she had expressed an aberrant whisper of a conscience. Gillespie could be intimidating, but he was nowhere near as unnerving as this softer, more compassionate version of his ex. 

Bubba turned and ascended the station’s front steps, knowing he would have to find out what damage Tracy had done the hard way. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Bubba closed the door to the chief’s office and turned to face the old man, who currently seemed oblivious to anyone’s presence as he read through his bifocals. Knowing the chief wouldn’t appreciate stupid questions, Bubba sat down and let the silence speak for him. He didn’t have the option of letting the subject of his ex-wife’s visit go away. Avoidance would just make everything worse. 

“Did you speak with her?” Bill finally asked gruffly, not looking up from the papers in his grasp. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“And you’re not the culprit?” Bill asked dryly, as if merely taking care of a formality. 

“No,” Bubba replied just as dryly. 

“Do you know who is?” 

“No.” 

“Think she’s making it up?” 

“No.” 

“Neither do I,” Bill admitted, finally putting down what he had been reading, “though she accused all of us of being overly and unfairly skeptical.” 

Bubba noted a soft pity in the older man’s eyes. He couldn’t help but fear that the pity was meant for him, not his ex. Maybe Bill was believing other things Tracy had seen fit to share with him. Maybe she had accused the chief of being overly and unfairly skeptical about more than just her mystery pursuer. 

Bill finally suggested, “Perhaps someone didn’t care for Tracy’s close contact with you.” 

Bubba’s expression darkened as he made something quite clear. “I don’t have _close_ contact with Tracy.” 

Only when that point had been made and allowed to sink in, did Bubba let out an exhausted sigh and say, “But it probably _looked_ that way. Yeah, some poor fella’ probably has it bad for her... started worryin’ she was foolin’ around.” 

Bill adjusted his glasses and peered down through his bifocals again, interested in reading reports. “Are you sure it wasn’t a woman who has it bad for _you_?” 

Laughing out of reflex, Bubba shook his head and replied modestly, “I doubt that, Chief.” 

Bill hadn’t had a chance to speak to Virgil about Harriet’s suspicions yet. He wasn’t even certain he would. He had learned his lesson. Unless it came directly from Bubba or Althea, he would treat anything he heard about the two as nothing more than idle gossip. 

Bill finally did mention something he couldn’t take as gossip. It had been staring him in the face the whole time Tracy had sat in his office. “Tracy seems unable to let you go.” 

Bubba stood slowly, wanting the conversation to end sooner than later. “Tracy’s neva’ been real good about acceptin’ rejection, Chief. It’s not me she wants. She just wants anotha’ chance to leave me first... like gettin’ the last word in an argument.” 

“She’s had the last word before, only to come back again.” 

His logic shot full of holes, Bubba had no choice but to pull himself painfully out of denial. All he could offer to Bill in surrender was a mumbled, “Tracy just _wants_. She wants this and that and once she gets it, she’s bored.” 

“Not all women are like that.” 

Bubba agreed solemnly, “I know.” 

He did know, but only because someone had recently reminded him. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Virginia moved a stack of periodicals aside, so that she could better see her friend from across her desk. Even as she continued to clean up her work space, she grumbled, “John is a pompous ass. All he’s interested in is furthering his own agenda. The _facts_ mean nothing to him.” 

“And what is that agenda?” Althea asked, placing her purse at her feet as she sat down. Her chair matched the motif of the entire Sparta Herald, in the sense that it didn’t match anything else at all. 

“I think he has political aspirations, though I can’t imagine anyone voting for him after reading his editorials.” Virginia Skirvin grinned mischievously. “You’d have loved the tirade he made against the Sparta public schools a couple years ago.” 

“Oh, I’m sure I would have,” Althea replied sarcastically, thinking of how much she loathed John Carter’s other work. “So, I take it his allegiance to Clark Randall is an attempt to get his foot in the door.” 

“Well, he certainly isn’t doing it for fun.” Virginia shook her head sadly. “John’s not a popular man these days... well, even less popular than usual.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Virginia gave her old counselor and coach a perplexed look. “You still have a lot of friends in this town.” 

When Althea still seemed unable or unwilling to follow, Virginia wondered if she, along with a lot of others, had come to the wrong conclusion. “He’s been alluding to you all this time, hasn’t he? In some of his articles?” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

The sound of billiard balls cracking together echoed around the barn. The horses in the stalls beneath them offered no objections. Though one hay loft was reserved for a rough looking pool table and an apartment size refrigerator, the other was filled with plenty of hay. The horses were placated. 

“Got a full house?” Lonnie asked, straightening to take in all the options he had on the table before him. 

Bubba studied the table too, wondering what Lonnie would leave him to work with, before replying, “Wellers sold off their mares.” 

“They filed for bankruptcy,” Parker inserted. 

“Don’t care why they did it, Parka’. All that matta’s to me is havin’ three empty stalls.” Realizing he had sounded harsh, Bubba added lightly, “If I don’t keep ‘em filled, you might be tellin’ somebody _I_ filed for bankruptcy.” 

“Still determined to keep this place?” Lonnie asked, chalking his cue out of habit. 

“Not sure,” came the weary reply. 

The other two men shared a glance and Lonnie mocked, “Usually he just shrugs and grunts. _Not sure_ is an improvement.” 

Bubba moved away from the table and sat down on one of half a dozen mismatched bar stools lined up at the back of the loft. Unable to offer even a weak smile, he glowered down at the wooden cue he twisted in his hands. “I’ve found myself in a tight spot.” 

Noting the looks his comment elicited, Bubba added, “They haven’t threatened to throw me out... least, not yet. I just know someone who really likes the place and I’d love to sell out, but it’s... complicated.” 

Parker looked to Lonnie and said, “He’s been using that word a lot lately. _Complicated_.” 

Lonnie was more interested in the facts, asking Bubba, “What’s the problem? Think they’d be getting in over their heads?” 

“No, she can afford it,” Bubba assured. “That’s not the problem.” 

Lonnie had now picked up on two key details and decided to take a risky shot of a different kind. “You’ve mentioned a woman and a complicated situation. This potential buyer wouldn’t be Tracy, would it?” 

Bubba growled bitterly, “There ain’t enough money in the world.” 

Offering a slight smile, Lonnie admitted, “I’m glad to hear that.” 

Looking to Lonnie, Parker teased, “I thought you didn’t have an opinion about Tracy.” 

Before the tall detective leaned in to line up another shot, he replied, “I just don’t tell _everyone_ like you do.” 

Lonnie punctuated his jab by sending two balls into a corner pocket with a sharp crack. Standing to eye his work, he asked Bubba, “If not Tracy, then who?” 

Bubba hesitated, but quickly realized some things couldn’t be kept a secret forever. “Ms. Tibbs. She’s interested.” 

Lonnie asked bluntly, "Are you sure it’s not just _you_ she’s interested in?" 

He leaned in to take a shot that might win him the game, putting his sights on the eight ball with intentions of using it to sink his last solid. Chasing the solid into the pocket with the eight was unlikely, but he would be no worse off for trying. Bubba still had several stripes scattered across the table. 

Meanwhile, a self satisfied smile crossed Parker’s face and he made no attempt to hide it as he agreed, “I think Lonnie might be on to something. You two spend too much time together to just be talking about real estate.” 

Bubba joked, “Parka’, you just wish we did more than talk, so that _you_ could have somethin’ to talk about. If ya had more hair, you’d be down at the local ladies’ _see-lon_ cluckin’ with the rest of the hens.” 

“Do you?” Lonnie asked bluntly, before cracking the white ball off the black. 

Parker snorted indignantly, “Sure, Lonnie. I go to get my roots done every other week." 

Lonnie stood up straight and shook his head at Parker. He then turned to Bubba and said, “I was asking you. _Do you_?” 

“Do I what?” Bubba asked, not following. 

“Do you and Althea do more than talk?” 

Standing slowly to take his turn, Bubba found that Lonnie had left him in poor shape. The eight ball sat precariously close to a pocket. Sinking it early would end the game, so Bubba leaned in to take a shot that would hopefully keep his remaining stripes at a safe distance for the time being. In the real world, avoiding the eight ball wasn’t that easy. 

“Yeah,” Bubba admitted with a shy smile, “we do a little more than talk.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Lonnie patted a sleek Arabian on the neck as the animal nibbled sugar cubes from his palm. He listened as Bubba posed a question to him. “What would you do, Jamison? You’re the sensible one.” 

A smirk that only the Arabian could see came to Lonnie’s lips. There were many, especially those who knew him in his younger days, who would have gotten a good laugh hearing someone refer to him as sensible. He had tended to be the brains of any circle of delinquents he found himself in during his youth, but smart and sensible didn’t always go hand in hand. _I_ _was sensible... for a bad apple_ , he thought jokingly, before replying, “I have to agree with Parker on this one.” 

“I take it back. You’re not sensible.” 

Lonnie offered a smile that even Bubba could see this time. All the poor souls that had turned over in their graves a moment ago had been allowed to roll back over and lie comfortably again. Lonnie Jamison wasn’t sensible after all. “Parker had some good arguments. If the place doesn’t trade hands, you’ll both skip a lot of bank fees... utility fees....” 

Exasperated, Bubba sighed, “Forget the money....” 

“It sounds to me like you can’t forget the money and that means you’ve either got to sell out to her, let her move in and share the expenses or let someone else move in and share the expenses.” 

Bubba perked up. Backed into a corner, Lonnie’s third option, one he had already considered, was sounding a lot better by the minute. “It’s a big house. Plenty of space for a roommate.” 

“A roommate with two kids?” Lonnie teased. 

“No,” Bubba objected gruffly. 

“So, what’s Althea supposed to do in the meantime? Buy a house, then sell it when _you’re_ ready. All while you both have the solution to the other’s problem right in front of you.” 

Bubba offered a scowl. Lonnie was painting him as some sort of a selfish jerk and he didn’t appreciate it. “If she’d found a place right away, we wouldn’t even be havin’ this conversation. That was just poor luck. Had nothin’ to do with me.” 

Sensing Bubba’s growing defensiveness, Lonnie replied gently, “If it’s too much too soon, I can understand that.” 

“It _is_ too much too soon," Bubba snorted. 

Lonnie let the horse have the last of the confection from his hand and wiped the sweet crumbs off on his jeans. “Then make sure you tell her that. Knowing Althea, she’ll understand and come up with something.” 

Leaning back wearily on the door to an empty stall, Bubba confessed, “I don’t want her to have to come up with somethin’. This isn’t her problem.” 

“Do you want to hurt her?” 

“’Course not,” Bubba growled, knowing a foolish question when he heard one. 

“Then you might as well come to terms with it, Bubba. Your problems are her problems. That’s just the way that she is. Tell her.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Lonnie leaned back in his chair and stared at the tiled ceiling. He thought about striking up a conversation with the chief for the sole purpose of getting the secretary on the other end of the line to take him off hold. That’s how it always happened. The moment he tried to talk to someone else, they had to interrupt. It was some sort of law of the cosmos. 

Even as he took in a breath to speak to Bill, he heard the poor quality Muzak stop. A pleasant feminine voice inquired if he was still there and he held back the urge to say something flippant. He saved it for the man he’d been waiting for, introducing himself far more gruffly than he needed to. 

Joseph McEntire seemed unfazed by the curt treatment. He probably enjoyed it as a sign that he had been adequately rude and irritating. 

“What can I do for you, Detective?” McEntire finally asked flatly. 

“We’re having difficulty locating the man on record as having purchased your fleet here in Mississippi.” 

“Whatever you want him for, it’s no concern of mine.” 

“If he purchased your fleet with the intent to use those planes for illegal activities and we find out that you knew of his intentions at the time of the sale, it will quickly become a concern of yours.” 

McEntire had been in the business a long time and knew where he stood, but he also knew how much of a nuisance cops could be, whether they could actually put you behind bars or not. He finally growled, “Talk to my secretary.” 

With that said, he patched Lonnie back through to his secretary without so much as a goodbye. 

Though McEntire probably thought he had done the detective some disservice, he was wrong. Lonnie considered the secretary far more pleasant, efficient and most importantly, genuinely interested in being helpful. 

When Lonnie finally hung up, with a full page of hand written notes on his desk, he was startled by the chief. 

“What are you smilin’ about?” the older man barked good-naturedly. 

“She liked my accent.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Bubba studied the small pile of papers and brochures on Althea’s kitchen table because she had asked him to, wanting his opinion. All the places were pricey, but unlike him, she could afford them. 

“Havin’ trouble choosin’?” he finally asked. He immediately wondered if she noted the same anxiety in his voice that he did. He knew he was going to have to take Jamison’s advice sooner or later. 

“None of them speak to me,” she admitted, taking the cover off a large skillet on the stove. She stirred its contents until she was satisfied and replaced the lid. 

“Didn’t know a house could talk.” 

“Maybe you don’t listen well enough,” she teased, moving on to inspect the contents of a small pot on the back burner. 

He had a come back for her, but it was quickly forgotten as Jamison's advice came back to haunt him for the tenth time. He would have to say something soon just to end his own misery. 

"Men not listening is becoming a common theme around here," she continued. 

He noted her expression and couldn’t help but ask, “Did somethin’ happen... ‘tween you and Virgil?” 

It was something she didn’t want to dredge up and her curt response expressed as much. “He has his opinions and I have mine." 

“About?” 

“That man has opinions about everything.” 

Realizing how irritated she was with her ex, Bubba teased her softly to change the subject. “I happen to know a _woman_ who has an opinion about everything.” 

“Well, you’d better stay away from her. Opinionated women are nothing but trouble.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I kinda’ like her,” he admitted fondly. 

Leaving her to stir dinner one last time in silence, Bubba continued to do what she’d asked of him. He looked at a printout for a cute ranch style with a pool. _Kids’ll love that_ , he thought lightly. Next, a two story. _Bad location._  

Perhaps his mean spirited guardian angel was trying to send him messages again. He had come across the letter that had Althea scurrying to find a new place to live. Not signing a lease had both a positive and negative side. She wasn't trapped in the rental for an extended period, but it also allowed the landlord flexibility of his own and he was apparently taking advantage. Her rent was being increased, just for starters. 

Bubba put the letter back where he had found it before asking, “Do you believe in omens, ma’am?” 

Althea turned one burner down and another off entirely before answering him. “I don’t have much use for black cats and the number _thirteen_ , but I think certain things stick out to us for a reason. If they do, we should listen to them. We’re probably trying to tell _ourselves_ something.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

A woman exited the car that had pulled into the space right in front of the one Lonnie had chosen to park in. He watched her retrieve a package from her back seat and quickly enter the Post Office. 

“She’s single, from what I’ve heard,” Althea baited from the passenger seat, seeing how closely Lonnie was watching the woman. 

“Divorced,” he corrected, “with seven children.” 

“Wow,” Althea muttered with genuine awe. 

“I could see you with seven kids,” he replied honestly, though he seemed elsewhere, staring after the woman even though the Post Office door had long since closed behind her. 

“I’ve considered having _one_ more... but not _five_ more!” 

Only then did Lonnie look away from the building and let his gaze fall back on his passenger. 

Althea had found that reading Lonnie Jamison required a skill that only came with experience. Like riding a bicycle, she hadn’t forgotten how to do it, though it had been a long time. 

To her, Lonnie appeared both amused and restrained, like he was privy to an inside joke. 

Having an inkling as to what that inside joke could be, Althea hastily opened the passenger side door of the detective’s car and got out. She shut the door forcefully. 

She couldn't shake the feeling that every man wanted to question every thing she did. Question every feeling she had and right now, she felt Lonnie was doing the same thing. 

She was seldom ashamed of her feelings and desires, but lately, she felt trapped under a microscope, making her want to keep them to herself. Worse, after the dissection under the scope, she received the lab tech's analysis of everything wrong with her. 

If Lonnie had thoughts about the why, when, where, how and most importantly, who, of her having another baby, she just wanted him to keep it to himself. 

Though Althea wouldn’t have believed it possible, Lonnie’s mind was just as noisy with activity as hers. They had come to see the Reeds, hoping they might finally make some more progress with Robert. Now, Lonnie was certain he had gotten something valuable out of the trip, just concerning a different case. The mother of seven had given Lonnie more than just insight into Althea's personal life. She had knocked the cobwebs off some fuzzy memories. 

Of course, somewhere within Lonnie’s jumble of thoughts was also Althea’s admission. No matter how much his new lead panned out, he considered what she had told him far more important. It wouldn’t have meant much to anyone else, but it was strangely sacrosanct to him. 

In his line of work, he had to keep a lot of secrets. He had to know things that hardly anyone else knew. Dirty things, because that was the nature of the beast, but finally he knew something decent. Not earth shattering, just nice and clean and pure, like a baby. 

Lonnie could read Althea a lot better than she could read him. The fact she was on the defensive, but trying to hide it, just reinforced his suspicion. He could see it written all over her as he crossed in front of his unmarked sedan to met her on the sidewalk. 

Althea had baby fever and if Bubba knew, what to do with his house would be the least of his concerns. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

“Bubba,” Billy stated with seriousness, eyeing Bubba’s bare feet, “you got funny lookin’ toes.” 

“You _have_ funny lookin’ toes,” Bubba corrected. 

“Do I?” Billy asked warily. 

Sitting indian style on the living room floor, Billy rolled backwards and yanked one of his own bare feet to his face for inspection. He looked to Knothead, who had been napping next to him. Billy wiggled his toes as if to ask, _How do they look to you, dog_. 

Bubba chuckled lightly and shook his head. “Son, everybody has funny lookin’ toes. I was just suggestin’ ya say _have_ instead of _got_. _You_ have _funny lookin’ toes._ Go talkin’ like that too much and folks’ll think you’re uneducated... like me.” 

The boy looked doubtful. “Momma said you went to college.” 

Bubba couldn’t imagine why that part of his life would come up in a typical conversation between mother and son, but he replied anyway, “Yeah, I went.” 

Billy clamored up onto the couch and settled next to Bubba’s thigh. “You played football, right?” 

“Yeah, I played some.” 

“Momma said you were real good.” 

Offering a modest smile, Bubba replied, “You and your momma both talk too much.” 

Billy offered a big grin. “Dad says that all the time.” 

Feeling that they were in the midst of deep guy talk, Billy attempted to emulate Bubba. He quickly found that his legs were too short. He couldn’t quite manage to prop his feet up on an old ottoman as Bubba did. Instead, he propped his feet up on Bubba’s outstretched legs. 

Billy still looked rather pleased with his ingenious solution to his problem when his mother came in to inquire about him. “When he gets this quiet, I get worried. Is he behaving?” 

“As much as can be expected,” Bubba replied lightly. 

Althea seemed to think that was a good enough answer. With a smile and a playful swat on the fanny, she sent her son off to help his sister in the kitchen. 

She took up her son’s vacated place next to Bubba and without a word, she tucked her legs up under her and commenced to staring at her quarry. An amused smirk played on her lips as she waited to see how long he could hold out. 

Bubba could feel her eyes on him. She had asked him earlier what he intended to do about Dee’s wedding, which was fast approaching. Now she was back and he had come up with a solution, but he didn’t expect her to be pleased with it. “You go to the weddin’ and I’ll volunteer to work. Problem solved.” 

He finally looked to her to gauge her reaction. Seeing her obvious displeasure, he reasoned, “Tracy’ll be there. It’s best I avoid her. Virgil’ll be there too. Be nice if everybody can just enjoy themselves and not worry 'bout who’s doin’ what with who.” 

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed dramatically. Even she was capable of playing that game if necessary. Hoping to guilt him into submission, she finally asked, “Does _everybody_ include us? You’ll be working and I’ll be a wall flower... and Dee will be disappointed if you don’t show.” 

Bubba doubted that Dee would notice his presence or absence. If she was anything like the typical bride, she would be too busy trying to hold onto her one remaining shred of sanity. “I’ll hit the reception durin’ lunch or somethin’. She’ll understand. She knows the history ‘tween me and Tracy.” 

 _At least_ someone _does_ , Althea thought painfully, cuddling up to him. Maybe there wouldn’t be enough room for her and her troubles both, if she got close enough to him. 

Her parents had gone back to Philadelphia and Virgil would be by her place in the morning to pick up the kids for his weekend visitation. She would have the house to herself. Better yet, no one would be there to know she had been a naughty girl and stayed out all night. “Bubba, I’ve been thinking....” 

He knew that tone. He knew he was about to get talked into something. 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Virgil sliced Billy’s turkey sandwich horizontally. He then sliced Sarah’s as she preferred, cut diagonally. 

“You know the drill,” Virgil stated lightly, holding out the plates. The offerings were quickly swooped down upon. 

Bubba, who had been watching idly by, smiled as Sarah did an elaborate dance that would somehow help her shake up the mustard in the bottle before putting it on her sandwich. His smile faded as Virgil brought them back around to shop talk. 

“Did Robb find anything else?” Virgil asked, choosing his words cautiously. 

The conversation was one better suited for a room without little ears, but sending the kids away might have given them the wrong impression. Virgil did have some things he wanted to say to Bubba, but he had no intention of fighting with him. 

“No, other than the one fragment, he just found enough to confirm our suspicions and give Lonnie anotha’ case to worry about.” 

Virgil couldn’t help but think of the old cliché about leaving some things buried. “It’s tough. Sometimes you have to wonder which is easier for the family. Give them justice or let them go on not knowing they have any coming to them?” 

Nodding, Bubba sighed another cliché, “Ignorance is bliss.” 

“Sometimes,” Virgil admitted, finally starting to prepare his own snack before heading home. 

It would be the first weekend with the kids in months. He looked over to find the two entertaining themselves with a mean spirited game of footsie under the kitchen table. 

“Well,” Virgil suggested, “tell me about this fragment Robb found.” 

“It looked suspicious right off... not a common blend for a fabric. With the blend and the color, Lonnie tracked it to a manufacturer pretty easy. Found a company that uses it specifically to make one thing and one thing only, Type V PFDs. Some pretty tough stuff.” 

“What’s a PFD?” Billy asked. 

Bubba smiled faintly, like Virgil, he had been watching what he said and now he knew he’d had good reason. Little ears really did pick up a lot. “Personal Flotation Devices... just a fancy name for a life vest, like ya wear when you’re out on a boat.” 

He leaned against the kitchen counter and added for Virgil’s benefit, “You curious to know who wears a Type V PFD?” 

“I am now,” Virgil admitted. 

“Pilots.” 

The two men shared a glance. Virgil hadn’t been in town long, but even he knew that Clark Randall dabbled in more than politics. “Do you have enough to get a warrant to look at Randall’s fleet?” 

“Probably, but then they’ll know. We’re worried about losin’ the element of surprise... and it probably won’t do any good. The fragment was new... showed no signs of wear. It was cleanly cut, not torn. It was probably a remnant from the production process.” 

“So, Lonnie’s already asked this manufacturer if Randall’s made any recent purchases?” 

“Yeah. They haven’t shipped anything to McEntire Transport. Randall hasn’t made any private purchases eitha’.” 

Virgil shrugged. “McEntire isn’t the only fleet at the airport.” 

“Lonnie looked into all the regulars out there. That’s a dead end too. Unless the plane is new or you’re upgradin’ to meet new standards, there really isn’t much need for new PFDs.” 

The situation was all too familiar to Virgil and he sighed with sympathy, “Seems that your one lead is falling apart." 

“Well, it hasn’t fallen apart entirely. Randall isn’t the sole owner of McEntire’s Gulf Coast Transport.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Virgil walked into the living room and was grateful to find Althea and Bubba behaving themselves. He didn’t know what he would do if they weren’t. He quickly asked his ex-wife, “Are you coming by to pick them up or do you want me to drop them off?” 

There had been a time when schedules didn’t have to be arranged. It was the same every time, like clockwork. The where, when and how were almost always the same. Now she sometimes had plans... _with him_. 

Virgil fought back the sudden wave of sharp resentment. It would get him nowhere and it wasn’t fair to Bubba or his ex-wife. Nothing lasted forever. 

When they had finally come to a consensus, Althea went upstairs to do her usual inspection of overnight bags. Meanwhile, Virgil began a slow trek to the front door. It was the type of walk that usually enticed another man to follow and Bubba did. 

Once the front door was closed behind them, Virgil stated in clipped professionalism, “The situation in Philadelphia is getting worse.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Lonnie pulled up in front of a familiar house and recognized a car parked at the curb as being the same one he was parked behind at the Post Office. He wasted no time approaching the door to ring the bell. 

“ _I just want him to leave us alone!” the woman cried desperately in a thick accent. She looked past Lonnie to the well-dressed man tormenting her and then attempted to soothe the agitated toddler on her hip._  

 _The man took two steps forward and Lonnie stopped him with the gesture of a hand, before saying, “You’re trespassing. The lady has every right to demand that you leave and now that you’ve refused, I_ can _place you under arrest. Is that what you want?”_  

“ _Of course not, officer. My client just wants to settle his divorce and the matter of custody calmly and quietly,” came the response._  

 _Lonnie looked past the lawyer and studied the man’s_ friend. _Divorce lawyers didn’t often have drivers. To Lonnie, the_ driver _looked more like hired muscle. Maybe the pair thought a little intimidation would help where the law had failed to._  

 _Lonnie’s gaze swept away from the driver and back to his troublemaker. He studied the man’s hazel eyes to see if there was any recognition there. Did he realize the officer was growing suspicious? Lonnie hoped so, thinking it might deter the two men from being back with the same intentions they had today._  

“ _Am I free to go?” the lawyer asked dryly._  

 _Lonnie didn’t like what he saw in the other man’s eyes. Most people were intimidated by him, especially when he wasn’t pleased, like now. Lawyers didn’t tend to be a particularly brave bunch either, but this one appeared to be, always matching Lonnie’s gaze with sureness._  

 _Looking back to the woman behind him, Lonnie asked if she wanted to press charges._  

 _Even as Lonnie wondered how much she understood about the law in America, she asked, “Does this mean you will take him away?”_  

“ _Yes, ma’am. I can take him away.” He added in warning, “But we might not be able to keep him for very long.”_  

 _Lonnie wasn't going to waste his time or hers explaining how the complex system worked. Trespassing was merely a misdemeanor._  

 _She bit her lip, obviously thinking it over. Probably considering what her tormentor might do when released._  

“ _You can also go to the court and get a restraining order.” Lonnie looked back to the subject at hand and dropped his voice into the semblance of a growl. “And I think even he’s smart enough to stay away if you did that.”_  

 _In his haste to speak directly to the lawyer, Lonnie missed the look that crossed the woman’s face at the mention of a restraining order. It was still lingering there when he looked back to her for her decision. She quickly asked, “Must he go to jail to get_ _a_ _restraining order_?” 

“ _No.” Lonnie glanced between the leery woman and the calm subject of their discussion. “And I hope he’d see the generosity in your not sending him to jail, if that’s what you decide.”_  

“ _When my husband followed me to this country and beat me, they let him. He had money. This man has money,” she stated bitterly. She had been forsaken by the system once and was not going to be fooled by it again._  

XXXXXXXXXX 

“And that’s why I don’t intend to go back there anytime soon,” Bubba replied dryly. Everyone he cared about was on his turf now or soon would be. What happened in Philadelphia didn’t matter to him. Only when Philadelphia’s problems came knocking on his door would he care. 

“You might find yourself in the middle of something without having to go back,” Virgil corrected. 

Growing weary of all the trouble that seemed to follow him, Bubba sighed, “What sort of somethin’, Virgil?” 

With some reluctance, Virgil told Bubba what he had been hearing through his various sources back in Philadelphia. 

Bubba was quiet for a moment before admitting, “I’ve shot and killed people before, Virgil, but I’ve never seen ‘em again afta’ they was buried.” 

Virgil nodded, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, it probably has nothing to do with you, but I thought you might want to know.” 

“This makin’ big news back in Philadelphia?” 

“The media and the authorities are both all over it. They have plenty of theories, but the one I give most credence to is that with Blair’s organization faltering, someone decided to prove how weak they really are. Then Blair’s people put pressure to each opposing faction, telling them to back off... in the end, it’ll only unite their enemies against them even more. I think we’re seeing Blair’s organization entering its death throes, whether Blair’s ever convicted of anything or not.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

Lonnie hazarded a guess that she was in her mid to late forties, perhaps even her early fifties. He then considered the age of her eldest child and concluded that she had married late in life, considering the part of the world she came from. Most likely, desperation had led her into a doomed marriage. Forced to not only settle for someone of poor character, she had also been forced to break with tradition and marry outside her faith. Whatever friends and family she had were then lost to her. 

Though he knew her name, she was inclined to give her full name out of respect for her family. “Rukan bint Ma’mun bin Numair Al-Asmari.” She paused to fill two cups with tea and then added, “I have brought great shame to Ma’mun and Numair Al-Asmari.” 

Lonnie remained silent, wondering if she always introduced herself that way. Honor meant a great deal in Arab culture, which led him to believe that she probably did. It also led him to think twice about giving his opinion on her situation. Some things were dishonorable to speak of with strangers. For her sake, he would only ask what he had to. 

“I’m working on a case,” Lonnie explained, “and I’d like to ask you some questions about your ex-husband’s lawyer.” 

It had been awhile since he had seen the disturbance between the two and stopped, but she had still recognized him at the door. He hoped her memory would be just as good about other things too. 

She sat down across from him and hastily offered him sugar for his tea. 

Lonnie accepted a bit of sugar and went on to say, “I’m actually more interested in the man that was with him.” 

“I did not know him.” 

“I was pretty sure you wouldn’t, that’s why I’d like to speak to your ex-husband’s lawyer... and your ex-husband if that becomes necessary.” 

Her gaze settled on him as she warned, “My ex-husband is a dangerous man.” 

He leaned forward and took her into his confidence. “I have a feeling they’re _all_ dangerous men.” 

XXXXXXXXXX 

For a long time, Virgil had tried to appease Calvin Peterson. Not just because he was in love with Calvin’s daughter, but because having the respect of Iron Jaw Peterson meant something. If he wasn’t good enough for Calvin, what was wrong with him? 

Whatever Virgil lacked, Bubba seemed to have it and that stung his ego even more. He had to keep reminding himself that not only was it not Bubba’s fault that Calvin preferred him, but Bubba had also _earned_ Calvin’s respect. Thinking of that, he looked to Bubba and said, “Word has it, you’ll be the new chief of police one of these days.” 

Bubba replied, “I’m not cut out for that sortta’ thing, Virgil. It would neva’ happen anyway. City council would neva’ allow it.” 

“Sure about that?” 

“I’ll worry about _that_ job when I’ve managed to keep the one I got now.” 

“The chief won’t stop fighting this thing.” 

With an air of disappointment, Bubba agreed, “Yeah, I know he won’t.” 

As Virgil watched Bubba grow quiet and thoughtful, he knew it was time to finally say what he had really intended to say all along. “Bubba, we’ve all got enough to worry about right now. Don’t crowd me and I won’t crowd you and we’ll get along through this.” 

Looking to the clouds floating overhead in a beautiful winter sky, Bubba let out a relieved breath. Virgil had finally come to the same conclusion he had long ago. “Sounds fair, Virgil. Can’t ask more than that.” 

Virgil took interest in the same sky, feeling much better already. 

“Got anything else ya want to say? Don’t matta’ what it is. I’ll hear ya out.” 

Though he seemed to think deeply on something for a moment, Virgil’s only response came in the form of a slight shake of his head. 

“Ya sure, ‘cause you still don’t seem satisfied.” He looked over to see if Virgil would accept his offer. “I’d ratha’ just be done with all of it.” 

Virgil struggled. Did he really want to know? Should he know? Did it matter? 

Yes, it did matter. It had crawled under his skin for too long already. Althea had given him her answer. Only Bubba’s answer remained. “Were you in love with her?” 

Now Bubba knew how the chief had felt. _Yes or no answa’,_ _C_ _hief._ It was a great deal more complicated than that.


	11. Chapter 11

From the corner of her eye, Marissa perceived movement. Her baby-sitter had evidently decided to leave her. Out of curiosity, she looked up to see why. Only then did she realize Agent Pearson had arrived and it knocked her back into a cold reality. Next time, it might be foe instead of friend that managed to sneak up on her. She had been looked after for so long, she was beginning to forget that the only person she could really count on to protect her was herself.

Pearson misread the tense look on her face and assured, “Things have been quiet.”

She interjected ominously, “Too quiet.”

“Perhaps.”

Annoyed, she tossed her magazine onto an end table. It seemed that all she did anymore was read or stare dumbly at a television. Sometimes she shook up her routine a little and stared out a window or scribbled stick figures. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she worked off her tensions doing aerobics. Of course, even that outlet for her would be quickly ruined. Agent Cornwell was always too eager to watch.

A fleeting thought crossed Marissa’s mind. Perhaps she should ask Pearson to hook her up with a dozen pints of ice cream. She tried not to smile as she imagined what Cornwell would think of her thighs then. _Knowing Cornwell, he’ll just stare at my breasts instead, hoping they’ll get bigger too._

“Something wrong?” Pearson asked, concerned about her continued silence.

She thought better of speaking her mind. She not only depended on these people to watch her back, she was also stuck with them indefinitely. They were not people she wanted to have bad blood with and that’s what she would get if she made complaints about any of them, even if they had it coming. It would always be the _real_ FBI versus her and she would always lose. Somewhere, she had ceased being one of them.

She finally said, “Nerves are just getting frayed around here. Everyone’s sick and tired of waiting.”

“That’s why I’m here. The prosecution is wrapping things up and you’re going to be the big finale. They want to get you in and out fast, so they want you close.”

Marissa couldn’t decide which emotion to hold tight to. She was relieved that the end was near, but she was also disappointed. She liked California. As odd as it seemed, time spent on the beach made her feel closer to Parker.

Everyone was insignificant compared to the immensity of the sea and that made her feel normal. She was tiny and mortal, like everyone else. What did something so small have to lose? She was reminded that as short as life really was, doing nothing at all was far more dangerous than what she faced.

Being undaunted didn’t mean that she had thrown caution entirely to the wind, especially when it came to those she cared about. Referring to a previous conversation, she asked, “Did you contact the Sparta P.D.?”

He reminded lightly, "You’re not the only one around here who needs to keep a low profile.”

Questioning the honesty of his answer, she replied, “You’re in charge. You have to talk to somebody on the outside sooner or later.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t give me license to take unnecessary risks,” Pearson explained.

“After all they’ve done...,” she began to argue.

“They were cleaning up their own mess.”

She bit back, “Is that where the bureau has filed the Peterson case? Under _Messes, Snafus and Blunders_? The bureau knew all along that the Philly P.D. was dirty up to its neck and they did nothing to fix it. If we had done something sooner this _mess_ would have never happened.”

Pearson finally showed which side he was really on. Hurt by her summation of the situation, he stressed, “I don’t like what happened anymore than you do, but that doesn’t change the fact that they were looking out for their own, like I’m doing now.”

“Maybe I’m looking out for _my_ own. My loyalty doesn’t begin and end with the bureau, especially considering the homecoming you’ve given me.”

“You’re _alive_ ,” Pearson reminded.

 _And_ _what a life it is_ , she thought sadly.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Bubba thought for certain he had been left standing silent, looking foolish and incredibly guilty, the right response finally came to him. It was something Althea had once told him. With confidence, Bubba looked to Virgil and uttered one phrase, “Coup de foudre."

“ _Ma’am, I barely keep up with ya when ya speak English,” Bubba stressed._

“ _You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Althea admitted._

“ _Cussin’ at me?” he teased._

“ _Coup de foudre,” she repeated. “It’s French.”_

“ _And for those of us who don’t speak French, what does it mean?”_

“ _People will say that they love someone so much it hurts. The French express it as coup de foudre. A sudden intense feeling of affection... love. I just think it sounds more romantic. Love shouldn’t hurt.”_

_Tongue-in-cheek, she added, “Leave it to crass Americans to say it that way.”_

Bubba came back to the present and asked, “Know what that means, Virgil?”

After waiting on pins and needles, Virgil had been hoping for a simple yes or no, not a riddle. Disappointed, he merely shook his head.

For a moment, Bubba was silent too. He had really expected Virgil to know. Althea had to have shared her sentiment on the subject with him at some time. She had loved him. She still did, in a way.

“It’s just a fancy way of sayin’ ya love somebody so much it hurts.” Bubba noted that his friend’s baffled look had morphed into something else, but it wasn’t really recognition.

Realizing Virgil was likely viewing his response as a confirmation of his suspicions, Bubba quickly explained, “I’ve always been fond of her, Virgil. Nothin’ I wouldn’t do for her. Now or back then. Yeah, it broke my heart when she left, ‘cause it meant she wasn’t happy and that’s all I wanted for her.”

He paused before adding, “Coup de foudre. That’s the only difference ‘tween then and now. How I felt then isn’t how I feel now. So... no, Virgil. I wasn’t in love with her.”

Bubba had unintentionally drawn a line in the sand and now he felt compelled to defend it. To defend her. He stated firmly, “I’m in love with her _now_ , Virgil... and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“ _Oh, they tried to talk me into leaving," Althea explained. "They told me it wasn’t safe, but I wasn’t going anywhere.”_

_Althea’s determination was still there. She wasn’t going anywhere without a fight, just like back then. “I took one look at you and... coup de foudre.”_

_She placed ice packs in both of the lunch boxes on her kitchen counter and closed them, confessing, “There isn’t much to do in a hospital, except drink bad coffee and do a lot of soul searching.”_

_She wore a strangely sad and wistful smile as she thought of what could have happened that thankfully hadn’t. “Three days later you opened your eyes and mumbled something at me.”_

_The lunch boxes went onto the kitchen table, so they wouldn’t be forgotten. “I knew you wouldn’t be happy about the situation, so I didn't see the point of bringing it up.”_

_Bubba grumbled, “You’re right, I wouldn’t have been happy... and I’m not happy now.”_

“ _You’re cute when you’re mad... not as cute as when you’re dazed....”_

_Frustrated that she could joke about something that could have turned out so badly, he growled, “They were still lookin’ for you. Were you tryin’ to get yourself killed?”_

“ _Were you?” she snapped back._

_Everything about her demeanor suggested that if he wanted to fight, she was ready and willing after the way he had scared her._

“ _No! I wish I could go back and change things, but I can’t.”_

“ _That makes two of us,” she snapped again after locking gazes with him._

_She refused to look away, hoping to convey the intensity of the love she had for him. No matter how exasperated she became with him, she wouldn’t be put off easily._

Bubba was back on Althea's front porch, determined that he wouldn’t be put off either. As he watched Virgil walk away, Bubba knew his old friend was hurting, but there was nothing he could do. Bubba wasn’t about to give up the girl and he was pretty certain the girl wouldn’t go willingly anyway.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rukan sat across from Lonnie with her head held high. She seemed determined to own her disgrace. “I thought I had seen the last of him... certain he wouldn’t survive his prison sentence in Turkey. Without him, our future was bleak. I went to my father, Ma’mun Al-Asmari. He would not help me. He said that his only child was lost to him and he had no grandchildren. I cursed his name. I told him we would beg in the streets, reminding the people that Ma’mun Al-Asmari had only one lost daughter and no sons. Then the people would wonder what he had done to deserve such disgrace. That is when he sent us to Spain. Soon after, I received asylum here in America.”

“Your husband was eventually released,” Lonnie coaxed.

“After six years. By the seventh, he had found us.”

Remembering the toddler he had seen on her hip from their first encounter, he asked, “Did you reconcile?”

“If you wish to call it that,” she stated dryly and stood to collect the dishes.

XXXXXXXXXX

Billy and Sarah ran out the front door with the same flourish they had run in with, slamming the door to accent their hasty departure. The bags they were dragging made a distinct thunking sound as they scrambled down the front steps.

The front door was almost immediately opened and closed again, just more subtly this time. Hearing it, Althea called loudly, “Did you boys have a nice chat?"

Bubba entered the kitchen looking exhausted. “Well, he didn’t take a swing at me.”

“Was it really that bad?” Althea asked.

She pulled a chair away from the table for him, coaxing him to sit.

Bubba shook his head sadly. “Virgil just wants some space. Wants to give _us_ some space."

He finally eased into the chair she had offered. He felt spent and he knew he must look it too, sagging in the chair. “He didn’t slug me, but he sure hit me with some rough questions... I coulda’ handled the whole thing betta’ than I did.”

“I’m sure you did your best, Coach,” she soothed.

She began to knead the tension out of his neck. She guessed by the tension in him that the questions were as sinewy and tough as he was.

He muttered, “If Virgil’s half as good in court as he was out there drillin’ in to me, he picked the right career.”

“You’re an easy target to drill into... you’re a big softy.”

As he tensed up even more, she found her job growing difficult and joked, “Okay, maybe you’re not a softy.”

He managed a weak smile, but said nothing.

Making him lean forward, Althea worked her way down his spine, eliciting a satisfied groan out of him. “What did he ask you?”

“It was a guy thing,” he mumbled, turning to putty under her busy hands.

“So, you both stood out there grunting and dragging your knuckles,” she teased.

He laughed and admitted, “Actually, it _was_ a little like that.”

She slid her arms around his neck and got so close that their cheeks touched. Her cheek felt chilly against his warmer one and she wondered if he was hiding his anger. “Are you two okay?” she asked worriedly.

Bubba seemed to think on it for a moment, then admitted, “Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay.”

Like setting a broken bone, it had been painful, but necessary. The whole thing would make for tender feelings for awhile, but it would heal. He had faith that it would. He had faith that Virgil was still a good man. He would come around when the pain subsided.

“I’m glad to hear it.” She squeezed him tighter, growing excited. “Since Virgil was kind enough to show up early, we can leave early.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Chandler Compton considered the situation calmly, while his employer, Alexander Brockhaus, removed his glasses and folded them with deliberate care.

Chandler knew the other man well. Alexander was articulate, cultured and polite. He was controlled, even in his passion, like now.

“Chandler, I think my wife has once again forgotten the rules of decency. Having a man in the house without a chaperone present is very distasteful.”

Even as Alexander spoke, he witnessed his wife doing something even more distasteful. She was flirting in public. That’s what she was doing as she eyed her suitor and readjusted the silk headscarf she wore, showing not only her raven black hair, but demonstrating the dexterity of her long supple fingers.

“Kill him,” Alexander ordered firmly.

“Sir....”

“I will hear no arguments on the matter, Chandler.”

“He’s with local law enforcement,” Chandler warned. “You may be mistaking his intentions.”

Alexander could not fathom what he could possibly be mistaken about, especially as he watched Rukan laugh at something her suitor was saying. She never laughed like that for him, not that he wanted her to. It was unbecoming of a proper lady.

XXXXXXXXXX

Initially, Bubba had misgivings about their weekend outing, but now he looked forward to getting away as much as Althea did. He had reminded himself that he was a big boy, quite capable of saying no to anything he wasn’t ready to do.

“Decide where we’re goin’ yet?” he asked, looking at the map. He knew they were headed south, so he focused his attention there.

“Do we have to have a destination?” she asked.

“No, s’pose not,” he muttered.

“You don’t like spontaneity,” she commented, as if that bit of discovered knowledge would go into a database she had started all about him.

He didn't deny it, explaining, “I’ve seen all the trouble spontaneity can get folks into.”

“And what kind of trouble could a little weekend road trip possibly get us into?”

He grinned mischievously. “Haven’t ya eva’ seen any of them horror movies, ma’am. Road trips always end the same way... ya get attacked by cannibals.”

She nodded grimly. “I’ve heard cannibal attacks are way up this year.”

After a short silence, Bubba blurted, “Do ya think I’m borin’, ma’am?”

She looked to him and then back to the road, thinking of their peculiar monikers for one another. It wasn’t the time, but soon, she would have to ask him when _ma’am_ had started meaning more than it used to.

“You’re far from boring, Coach.”

He warned gently, “Don’t confuse reckless with interestin’. A guy who jumps out of planes can be borin’ as mud ‘bout everything else.”

“I didn’t bring a bucket of mud with me. I brought _you_ ,” she assured. “If I didn’t like _you_ , I’d have left you at home.”

“Ya might be betta’ off with a bucket of mud. Ya eva’ think ‘bout the future? Where we’ll be a year from now? Five? Ten?”

“Of course, I do," she admitted cautiously, worried about him and where his questions were bubbling up from.

He had obviously been stewing over the future. Their future.

She soothed, "It’s in our nature as human beings to think about the future. I've thought about... apparently, you've _really_ been thinking about it.”

He asked bluntly, "Well, wha’d’ya see?”

“Do you really want to know?” she asked gently, searching his gaze as much as she dared considering she was behind the wheel.

“Is it that bad?” he asked worriedly.

“It’s not _bad_ ," she explained,"but you might take it the wrong way.”

Talking about marriage and having a baby before your one month anniversary was a pretty good way to scare off a man in two seconds flat.

As if he could read her mind, he said, “I promise not to assume anything, ma’am... I know a year from now don’t mean _today_.”

Althea took a deep breath and tucked her hair behind her ears nervously. This was touchy territory, even for her. “Well... I could see us talking about... getting married. _Talking_ , Bubba. I stress _talking_.... it's just the natural progression of things....”

She told herself to shut up before she dug herself in deeper, because the next thing was to say something about the twins. Say something about it just being natural for a woman with children to want stability for them. As if marriage wasn't scary enough, she was thinking about forcing her children off on him too.

 _And this is why they run away_ , she sighed inwardly. She had a good thing going and she was going to ruin it by getting clingy like a teenager in love for the first time, scribbling hearts and initials in her notebook after a promising first date.

Bubba brought her back around by asking, “You could see yourself married to me?”

Althea replied, "Of course, I can.”

He smiled shyly, but said nothing.

Althea drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what she was going to do with him. She finally found her voice and blurted, “You have esteem issues.”

He thought about it for a moment, but couldn’t agree with her entirely and said as much. “Just seems that way.”

“Explain to me why it _seems_ that way.”

“You’re way up here,” he admitted, gesturing with his hand, “and I’m just sortta’ here in the middle. I don’t try to fool myself ‘bout who I am... where I belong.”

“You’re not in the middle, Coach,” she corrected gently. “I have no idea where you got the idea that you are. If anything, you’ve got it backwards. I’m average... you’re not.”

He argued, “I’ve got an angry ex-wife... a house I can’t afford... and I might be out of a job... the only job I’ve eva’ been half way good at." 

“No matter where you are on the scale, life throws things at you that you can’t control. You can’t control other people, like Tracy. She’ll be who she’s going to be. The city council is going to do what it’s going to do. Just because you might lose your job doesn’t mean you weren’t exceptional at it.”

She looked over to see him still looking doubtful. “Fine, let me put it this way. _I_ think you’re way up here.” It was her turn to gesture. “Shouldn’t it be about where _I_ think you are?”

Bubba still wore an unsatisfied look on his face. Exasperated, she announced firmly, “I’ve told you what I see in a year. Now I’m going to tell you what I see in five... I want to have another baby... and when it comes to babies it’s all about biology, Coach.”

She added, “If you weren’t good enough to make a baby with, I wouldn’t be here.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Chiaruttini eyed the brand new Cessna warily. “Brockhaus is here?”

“Of course,” Clark laughed, “he doesn’t trust us.”

 _And I don’t trust him either_ , Chiaruttini thought bitterly.

“You’ll probably get a call... something about his wife.”

“ _Ex_ -wife,” came the curt correction.

“Whatever,” Randall grunted, “let’s get this done.”

Isaac Chiaruttini had kept a pristine record by never mixing business and pleasure and never doing more than one job for an individual, no matter how much money he was offered. Unfortunately, he had recently broken his second rule.

He studied Clark Randall, watching the big man settle in at his desk to split up an impressive pile of cash. They really had made a fortune on their first endeavor. Even so, Isaac ignored the money and watched Clark.

The councilman was in unusually high spirits. No doubt, a reaction to being in contact with so much hard spendable currency. Randall finally said, “I’ll admit, Che Che, the bastards had me sweating.”

Randall then handed over Chiaruttini’s share. “I don’t see why they couldn’t wait... but the next one should be easier. The cops’ll be entirely out of the picture by then.”

Due to the death of a municipal employee and the upcoming funeral, the next city council meeting had been moved up a few days and Randall couldn’t have been happier. He would finally get to deliver the first of a series of detrimental blows to the Sparta P.D. and he was certain his plan would work, no matter what his business partners had to say.

Isaac, on the other hand, had serious doubts. As a soldier, he knew very well what a preemptive strike was and that’s what would be coming. If they could, the police would hit Randall before he had the opportunity to hit them. That was just the way of warfare.

While Isaac reasoned that he would have two days to get out of Sparta at the very most, Randall went on, oblivious to the growing danger, “I’ve got a good feeling about this, Che Che.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba surveyed the room briefly, then dropped onto the lone bed and kicked off his boots. He sprawled out and tucked his hands behind his head, being playfully smug about it. Althea had scoffed at his objections and he was now getting the last laugh.

He received the reaction he was hoping for. Althea was taking the situation in good humor. She was shaking her head, a hint of a smile peeking through. The kind of smirk that said she wanted to be annoyed, but just couldn't work herself up to it over something so small and a little comical.

Bubba finally teased, “You was the one who wanted _one_ bed.”

She shrugged in defeat, unable to deny that she was indeed the one who had pushed for one bed. She admitted in exasperation, "I just expected it to be bigger."

She knew she had just walked into a mine field with that comment and she cut Bubba off with a look before he could say a word. He flashed a naughty grin at her, but remained silent. She might be able to keep him from saying his raunchy come back, but he was definitely going to keep thinking about it.

He went easy on her, not dwelling on her faux pas as long as he could have. Instead, he measured the width of the bed with a glance and sighed with a hint of disappointment, “Don’t ya think it’s cozy?”

She was beginning to wonder if Bubba had been right. Spontaneity was working against her right now, forcing her to spend the night at an inn that was really just one step up the creaky ladder from being a cheap motel.

She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, looking tired. Her sense of humor seemed to be running out. He propped himself up and said to her, fearing he had taken things too far, "It's not that bad... just been givin' ya a hard time since we got here cause it's fun."

She leaned over and untied her own shoes, a comfortable pair of tan canvas ones. She took a moment to think while she could keep her back to him. Sometimes she could take the full brunt of those dark eyes of his, but not now. This was when those eyes were at their worst. He could kill with those puppy eyes, soft with nothing but concern for her. They didn't drill in, they melted there way in.

It was a moment Bubba needed to wrangle his own thoughts too. He eventually confessed, "Ya got it all planned out... all that talk 'bout the future, but you're more scared than ya let on."

He moved up behind her and slid her dark hair aside so that he could lay his chin in the crook of her shoulder. His voice sounded gruff and gravely as he added, "And I'm not talkin' 'bout one bed or two. It's more than that."

He had heard the fear and uncertainty in her voice as she talked about the future. She was choosing her words carefully, trying not to spook him. She'd had too many men run off when things started getting intense. Things had to have gotten intense, she had two children and wanted another. Eventually a man would either have to commit or leave.

"Are you sure?" she asked gently. "Because, I’m having a vision.”

She placed her fingertips to her head with dramatic flare and closed her eyes. “I see you getting cold feet. I see myself feeling hurt and rejected. Someone ends up sleeping on the floor.”

Opening her eyes, she pulled away from him, so she could look at him. She explained, “I just don't want to see that happen. You’re not ready, Coach. It’s been written all over you since we left... and if we come to terms with that now, maybe no one will have to sleep on the floor.”

She gave him a fond smile before standing up. She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I don’t expect you to do anything you don’t want to do."

He watched her retreat to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he heard the shower come on. He laid there, contemplating what she had said.

She eventually emerged, feeling fresh and in far better spirits. She had misjudged the place. The bathroom was spotless, the hot water plentiful and the towels fluffy.

She found Bubba flipping through the cable channels halfheartedly. He was shirtless and tucked under the covers. Apparently, he had the same intentions she did of turning in now so that they could have an earlier start in the morning.

“It’s all yours, if you want it,” she announced, referring to the bath.

She second guessed her choice of words, just because the situation was ripe for that sort of thing. She was second guessing every thing she did and said. The trip, before now, had its own momentum, keeping things casual and flowing along nicely.

Alone for awhile, she had been able to relax and let her guard down. Now she had come out of the shower only to hit a wall. She couldn't recapture Philadelphia, where things were strangely easier. No strings. No expectations. No agenda.

She was actually grateful to have the television. It was something for Bubba to look at other than her. Something that could do the talking for her for a while. People liked to accuse her of talking too much, but even she wanted to be quiet sometimes, like now.

She would gladly take silence to saying the wrong thing. She would gladly take an uneventful night to doing something stupid.

Meanwhile, Bubba finally looked from the television to her and snickered at the sight.

She feigned indignation, “You’re laughing at Tweety aren’t you.”

Her tank top was white and unadorned, but her blue flannel bottoms were covered with little yellow birds. She sat down on the end of the bed and hastily put the folded clothes she had worn that day into her bag.

“I could have worn this instead,” she teased, before allowing him a glance at the alternative she had brought with her.

He eyed the lacy number and admitted, “Nice.”

She grinned mischievously. “I have more... just keep that in mind as an incentive.”

“That was a very _tiny_ incentive,” Bubba teased lightly.

Her grin morphed into a satisfied smile as she tucked the lingerie back into her bag. Ready or not, at least he seemed to like what she had to offer.

She asked sweetly, “Well, I have Tweety... what do _you_ have?”

That said, she crept up the bed with intentions of looking.

Bubba wasn’t prone to blushing, but he did fall prey to it on occasion. When he did, it was a brutal cycle. Embarrassed to be embarrassed, he reddened more. Reminding himself he was too old and rough to blush like a kid, he would flush to the tips of his ears and he could swear they were blinking with every beat of his heart like a pair of radio tower beacons.

Seeing how red he had suddenly become, Althea fell back to a safe distance and soothed, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Eager to put him at ease, she hastily switched off the light on her side of the bed and pulled back the covers. As she removed her earrings and laid them on the nightstand, Bubba turned off the television and then turned off the light on his side of the bed.

The room was still illuminated by a light left on in the bathroom.

“Does the light bother you?” she asked. “I don’t really like waking up in a strange room... I get disoriented.”

"Ya actually think you'll fall asleep," Bubba teased. "With the way I snore?"

She crawled into bed, taking his comment to mean he didn't mind the light. She teased back as she adjusted her pillow, "Hasn't a woman trained you to roll over on command yet?"

Still propped up, Bubba finally slid down under the sheets. "Well, Tracy did treat me like a dog, she probably trained me like one too."

Althea could sense humor in what he said, but just a hint of hurt feelings were there too. She reached out to him in the dark. Finding what she suspected was his bare shoulder, she laid her hand on him reassuringly. Just briefly, because she didn't want to send mixed signals.

She had been sleeping alone for too long and being so close to him was a cruel temptation. She would have been content with cuddling and if he eventually made his way over to her side of the bed, she wasn't going to complain. But once again, it wasn't something she would force on him. She wanted him to do it because he wanted to, not because she asked him to.

Meanwhile, Bubba stared up at the ceiling. He was calculating the distance between him and her. The bed _was_ a bit small. She would end up a lot closer sooner or later.

 _Yeah, I got cold feet alright_ , he groaned inwardly with a touch of self loathing.

He hated himself more, remembering what else she had said earlier. _She’ll go to bed feelin’ hurt and rejected._

He looked to her form in the gloom and wondered if she really did feel that way. He then wondered what the hell he was thinking.

She _wanted_ to be with him. An attractive passionate woman _wanted_ to have sex with him.

She wanted it. He wanted her to be happy. It should have been a no brainer, but it wasn’t.

It wasn't due to a lack of desire on his part. When she had reached out to him, it felt right to respond. To go to her. Put his arms around her. Hold her close.

He finally whispered to her in the dark, “Still awake?”

She looked over her shoulder at him without saying a word.

Bubba finally rolled onto his side and settled in behind her, but not too close. If he didn’t say what needed said, he would never do more than sleep next to her. “I’ve neva’ managed to get a relationship to work. This one’ll end... and you’ll hate me.”

She hastily switched sides to face him. “I could never hate you.”

Rock solid conviction was in her voice and there was enough light for him to see it in her eyes too.

It still wasn’t enough to sway him. “Yeah, ya could...”

“Bubba....”

“Once we do this... some things ya just can’t take back....” He trailed off, unable to put the rest into words. He could only hope that the rest was implied.

“If ya eva’ hated me," he confessed, "I’d want somebody to put a bullet in me.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she pleaded.

She knew it was just talk, but it still unnerved her. Uneasy, she just wanted the reassurance of him being there. She reached out to him, found him and moved close, not just for her sake, but for his. He was looking for something to hold onto just as much as she was, it was obvious in what he was confessing to her. He was lost. Unsure. Insecure.

Space lingered between them that she wasn't entirely sure she was supposed to cross yet. She asked with her hand, sliding it down his bare side.

He didn't move to stop her as she trailed her fingers away from his side and down, across his stomach. Below his navel, she paused. She loved it when a man had a hairy chest that narrowed to a strip that went all the way down.

Bubba had it, she had seen it. Even tried several times to forget it when it was part of a distracting fantasy.

She didn't venture too far. Instead, she slid off the path and trailed her fingers back up to his side and this time, over. She traced down his back slowly, farther and farther, until the hard flat muscle of his back began the subtle shift to meet his ass.

She realized then why he wouldn't share with her what he was wearing.

Sensing her hesitation, he joked uneasily, “Ya told me I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do. Well, I didn’t feel like wearin’ any clothes...."

He added more somberly, "'Til I got cold feet, like ya said I would.”

“And now?” she asked, sliding closer to him.

Aware of her hand on his ass and nothing between them but her thin pajama bottoms, he admitted, “I wanna’ do a lot of things, but puttin’ my pants back on ain’t one of ‘em.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Etta Kibbe listened to her nephew as he seemed to unload a year’s worth of troubles in one visit. Old habits died hard and she peeked out the back door to check on the twins to make certain they weren’t soiling their Sunday best.

Only when Virgil was done talking did Etta sit down and go back to her needlepoint. With a few dramatic shakes of her head, she sighed, “Bubba Skinner. Now that’s a surprise. Quite a surprise. Mm’hmm.”

“A surprise?” Virgil gasped. Had his aunt been living under a rock for over a decade?

She ignored his reaction, as usual, and continued on with her own thoughts. “There’s gonna’ be trouble. Bushel ‘a trouble.”

She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “They’re not gonna’ like this. Not one bit. Uh-uh.”

“ _They_?”

“White folks. Black folks won’t like it, but they’ll leave him alone. It’s the white folks he’ll have to watch out for.”

“Times are changing... even here. Bill....”

Etta shook her head, like she pitied her nephew for being out of touch. “Bubba Skinner and Bill Gillespie are nothin’ alike. Nothin’ alike! Bill’s always been an outsider in this town... his own town. He’s too mean for anybody to claim him. But Bubba... he grew up poor, but he grew up to be somebody... handsome too. They _claim_ him. He’s one of _them_.”

Virgil tried to argue, “Bubba’s never associated....”

“Doesn’t matter,” Etta growled, her voice rising sharply. She liked Bubba Skinner and the thought of someone hurting him got in her craw.

She warned, “They _think_ he does. He’s never given them a reason to think he doesn’t.”

She angrily jerked on her thread to straighten out a kink. “This is it, Virgil. Proof he’s not like them.”

She finally looked up, looking more concerned than ever. “He’s broken a lot of hearts in this town. A lot of folks are gonna’ want to know what a black woman has that their precious little girl didn’t... and they won’t ask nicely. No... they won’t. Uh-uh.”

Virgil realized his aunt’s warning rang with a sick truth. Instinctively, he worried about Althea and their children. “What about Thea?”

Etta shrugged.

Irritated, Virgil asked bluntly, “Does that mean you think nothing will happen or do you just not care?”

“I care,” Etta snorted. “Nothin’. It means nothin’ll happen. She’s a big city girl with big city ways. Everybody in this town knows that... has all along. It’s Bubba who’s turnin’ against his ways.”

Virgil finally collapsed into a nearby chair. The list of reasons he had for thinking his ex was making a huge mistake had grown by one more and it didn’t bring him any satisfaction.

Etta continued to speak her thoughts on the subject out loud. “Folks in this town have always loved talkin’ about those two. The more far fetched a story is, the more fun they have.”

She studied her cloth closely before making another stitch. Pulling it through, she admitted, “I’ve been hearin’ rumors. Little things. I didn’t pay them no mind. Just thought it was the same old talk.”

She clicked her tongue and shook her head again, as if the whole thing was troubling her more by the minute. She looked up to Virgil abruptly. “Do the babies like him?”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, they like him... and he seems to like them.”

Guilt swept Virgil’s smile away and laid claim to his thoughts. There was a time when Virgil had just prayed that any man in Althea’s life treated his children with respect and now she was with a man that would lay down his life for them. Not just for the children, but for Althea as well and all he had done so far to show his gratitude for his good fortune was do his best to undermine the love his ex-wife had found.

As if she could read her nephew’s mind and wanted to give him one final jab, Etta muttered, “I’ve never heard a bad word about Bubba Skinner... at least, nothin’ that ever turned out to be true.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Althea looked to the digital alarm clock provided with the room. It really was as late in the morning as she feared it was.

 _So much for an early start_ , she thought.

She laid on her back, letting her mind wander. Sunshine squeezed in around the heavy drapes, leaving the room lit, but murky. The room looked different. The furniture was more drab. She was just now noticing the generic prints hanging on the walls and she didn't care for them.

The day ahead looked a little different too, not just because she was running behind.

She listened to Bubba’s heavy breathing as he continued to sleep next to her. He had figured it out, just like she had when she had gotten back out into the daunting single world. You just couldn't take some things back, not if you actually cared. Not if you had an emotional investment, looking for something beyond a one night stand.

It didn't seem to get easier with age either. To her, it seemed to get harder with every passing relationship. Every relationship left its scars. Left her a little more depleted. Every time she held back a little more than the time before, trying to spare herself.

It was hitting her hard that she was heavily invested this time. She had rushed ahead, relying entirely on faith that he wouldn't break her heart.

She smiled to herself, remembering the question he had asked that had sent her fumbling through the contents of her bag to find a condom. _“How soon were you wantin’ to have this baby of ours?”_

 _One of these days,_ she sighed inwardly.Ten little fingers and ten little toes... and Bubba finally getting the namesake he deserved. It was the most precious gift she could ever hope to give him and after all he had done for her, she wanted to.

On cue, Bubba huffed and mumbled something. She touched his bare belly to soothe him and he took her hand out of reflex.

 _He may not even want a baby._ Long ago, she had constructed a long list of what could have led to the break up of Bubba’s marriage. Not wanting children was on it.

A dark thought came to her. _Maybe he_ can’t _have any._

She knew immediately that she could live with that. There were so many other options, but that didn’t change the fact that she had opened her big mouth without even thinking about the consequences.

Baby or no baby, she still had two children half grown that would expect their mother to be home when their father dropped them off after their weekend visitation. She slipped out of bed.

Under the harsh lights of the bathroom sink, she brushed her teeth and tamed her hair a little. As she did so, she considered what she should wear. It was sunny now, but forecast to turn unpleasant later in the day. She knew bad weather was just another good reason to hurry home, but she really didn't want to rush. She suspected Bubba wasn't getting much sleep these days, so she hated to wake him.

She wanted to question him about that and a lot of other things. He was still thin and pale. He had barely eaten anything the day before, which had really disappointed her. She'd had high hopes after taking suggestions from a couple of foodies she worked with about where to go. She had loved the food, but Bubba seemed uninterested.

Now wasn't the time though, she had whisked him away to give him a stress free weekend. The questions could wait.

She left the bathroom and padded barefoot across the carpet. She went to the window and parted the curtains. On the second floor, with nothing but an empty strip mall next door, she didn't have much concern about their privacy.

The sudden cascade of light didn't make Bubba so much as twitch. Feeling sprightly, she clambered onto the bed. Up on her knees, she started to bounce, making the bed squeak. If that didn’t wake him up, she didn’t know what else would.

As he started to come around, she asked, “Are you going to sleep all day?”

When Bubba finally managed to focus, he drawled, “Ya do realize you’re bouncin’ ‘round naked.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” she teased.

“No.”

He watched her go up and then down, mesmerized. A sly smile started to form on his face as he commented, “Don’t ya think the folks next door heard enough of that last night?”

“I know I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

He swung his legs off the bed and roughly rubbed his head. “Give me a couple minutes.”

That said, he looked over his shoulder. He had never seen anyone who could sparkle like she did. “I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine like you are.”

“I can wait,” she announced, finally settling down behind him.

He left her there as he went through the same routine she had earlier. Only he had slipped back into his boxers sometime during the night, so he wasn't prowling around nude like she was.

He came out minutes later looking only slightly more awake. “We really should be goin’.”

“I know,” she sighed theatrically.

He returned to the bed and sat down, still weary and blurry eyed. “But you’re givin’ me the puppy dog eyes...,” he sighed.

“Is it working?”

She moved up behind him and slipped an arm over his shoulder. She leaned her chin on his other shoulder. Her fingers played across chest. 

“Yeah, it's workin',” he admitted with a smile.

He gently touched her cheek, then shifted so he could look deep into her brown eyes. “If ya haven’t noticed, I find it real hard to say no to you.”

She smiled back sweetly and teased, “Are you afraid I’ll take advantage of you?”

He chuckled, thinking of the night before. “I think ya already did.”

Althea feigned shock, “Me? I was trying to get my beauty sleep and then _you_....”

She was interrupted by a long kindling kiss. When released, she mumbled, “We’ll fight about this later.”

As he left a trail of kisses down her neck, he asked, “Will all our arguments end this way?”

“I certainly hope so,” she groaned, anticipating what he intended to do with the hand he had between her legs.

XXXXXXXXXX

“We may know who’s calling the shots now, but we still don’t know why,” Lonnie admitted. He looked out of place in an old t-shirt and faded jeans next to the chief, who was dressed in his best for Sunday services.

Bill continued to drink his coffee as he watched Beauregard sniff out a pesky squirrel in the backyard. “His wife’s presence here in Sparta is no coincidence.”

Lonnie sipped at his own coffee, which had quickly cooled since they had come out onto the deck. It was another cold morning.

Bill continued, “If we’re right about Randall and the McGinnis boy, our ring leader may not be pleased with Randall taking so many risks. I wouldn’t be surprised if Randall has an _accident_ before this is all over.”

Lonnie hadn’t considered that possibility and it sank in his gut like a rock. “And no one on the force would have a motive,” he sighed sarcastically.

Bill dumped his mug between two shrubs next to the deck. His coffee had apparently grown cold too. No sooner than he had done that, Harriet appeared at the patio door to remind her husband of the time.

After she had gone, he told Lonnie, “Call Bubba and tell him I want him on his very best behavior.”

He watched his statement bring a peculiar expression to Lonnie’s face, so he snorted, “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing... He’s just... incommunicado.”

Lonnie raised a calming hand as soon as he spotted a tirade coming. “I encouraged him to go.”

“Go where?” Bill barked gruffly.

Lonnie shrugged. “He didn’t say exactly and I didn’t ask. I told him to turn off his phone and relax for awhile.”

“You’re the one who needs a vacation. He should have been telling _you_ to go.”

The younger man’s expression deepened into a perturbed frown. Bubba could be a handful, but his work ethic was never in question. “I’m not walking around with a bullet in me. I thought he could really use the rest.”

Bill straightened, noting Lonnie’s sudden change in mood. His boys were loyal to one another, there was no doubt about that. Insulting one was like insulting the other. “I didn’t mean to imply that Bubba’s a lay about.”

In a tone suggesting he finally wanted the truth, Lonnie accused, “You’re just irritated with him in general.”

Harriet was honking the car horn in the front drive to remind Bill they would be late for church, as Bill admitted, “It’s true... Bubba and I don’t get along as well as we used to.”

The younger man asked bluntly, “I told him you weren’t angry about him nearly getting himself killed. Was I wrong?”

The shooting was still a touchy subject with Bill and he was eager to move past it, barking, “I’m not angry with him. He’s angry with me.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Alexander Brockhaus was certain that his plan had been compromised by Randall and Chiaruttini’s unauthorized antics. Something had to be done and fast, leaving them with the perfect opportunity to finally get rid of the meddlesome detective.

Now Chandler Compton had come seeking Chiaruttini’s services one last time. Unfortunately, he had to work damage control first. Chiaruttini had evidently recognized the gravity of his situation all on his own and was getting ready to run.

Chandler reasoned, “If they had anything concrete, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would be locked up.”

“I don’t intend to wait until they do,” Che Che stated coldly. The police had dug up the kid and then they had paid him a friendly visit. In only a few days, Randall would hit the hornets’ nest with a stick and Che Che didn’t like the idea of being in the cops’ sights when that happened. _That_ was concrete to him.

“If you check out, they’ll know,” Chandler warned.

“That’s why I’m not checking out.”

He had paid in advance for another full week. He had then passed the clerk an extra fifty bucks, as he had every week since he had checked in, as an incentive to keep the housekeepers out of his room.

Che Che quickly added in warning, “Don’t think I’m going far.”

Chandler didn’t attempt to hide a pleased smile. Chiaruttini had the good sense to not make a full retreat. He merely intended to pull back, dig in and prepare to fight another day. “Do this last job for us and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable no matter how far you go.”


	12. Chapter 12

The Gillespies had said their goodbyes and were leaving the church parking lot with Harriet behind the wheel. They were already deep in discussion. Althea’s absence at services was hard to miss and even harder not to address, considering Bill knew Bubba was missing as well.

Harriet perked up at the mention of Bubba’s absence. “Lonnie doesn’t know where he is?”

Bill scowled out the window at the passing scenery before replying, “He knows more than he saw fit to share with me.”

Noting her husband’s reaction, Harriet teased, “Feeling a little left out?”

She received an irritated glance that made her appease, “I’m not exactly in the loop myself. I asked her about it last week and she sidestepped the question. Not that I can blame her. I haven’t exactly earned her trust.”

“I've certainly _earned_ Bubba’s wariness,” Bill added sadly.

Thinking about what had led them to this sad state of mistrust, Harriet reminded sagely, “We really shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

The couple glanced knowingly at one another.

Harriet broke into a sly smile. There were a lot of things people knew they shouldn’t do, but they did them anyway. Jumping to conclusions was one of the them. It could just be so much fun sometimes.

"You're getting enjoyment out of this," Bill chided.

"Don't try to tell me you wouldn't be thrilled... when everything settles...."

Bill put on his most fierce expression. "No."

Her sly smile turned to a broad grin as she snickered, "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

XXXXXXXXXX

Althea had called Virgil as soon as she had arrived back in Sparta to revise their arrangements. Out of curiosity, she had asked how the trio’s weekend was going.

As soon as she had cut the connection, she looked to Bubba and warned, “Virgil took the twins to church this morning... with Etta.”

A hint of a perceptive smile played on Bubba’s face as he retrieved his overnight bag from the back seat of Althea’s sedan. It wasn’t until the bag was slung over his shoulder and the car door was closed that he finally replied in good humor, “Ya make it sound a bit ominous.”

No doubt, Etta would question Virgil about Althea’s whereabouts and there was a good chance Virgil would divulge the information. Neither of them had asked Virgil for his secrecy, not that it was likely to matter. Etta would merely lend a little credibility to rumors that had already been making the rounds.

With an air of defiance, Althea declared, “I don’t care if people approve or disapprove of our relationship. I just worry about how they disapprove in front of my children.”

He put his free arm around her and gently steered her towards his front porch. She had good reason to be concerned. Children were incredibly impressionable and worse, they had a knack for keeping their worries to themselves. Their mother might never know the full extent of what they had heard and how they had interpreted it.

Just short of the porch steps, she stopped in her tracks and faced him. The wind blew hair into her face and she swept it away. “I realize now that I should have said more to them.”

“And done more harm than good? Don’t be hard on yourself. They can only manage so much at one time.”

Seeing self-doubt and concern flicker in her eyes, he added, “ _You_ can only manage so much.”

She shook her head, sending her hair into her face again. “Sarah asked me why something seemed _wrong_. I answered her, but not the way I should have.”

She shook her head in disappointment at the rest of the world instead of at herself this time. “They’re so young, yet they already know so much... but not enough.”

“Ya can’t teach ‘em everything in a day,” he reasoned.

“I wish I could,” she admitted.

"No," she corrected, "I wish I didn't have to."

His heart went out to her, knowing she wanted to protect her children the same way he wanted to protect her. She couldn’t keep the whole world at bay and neither could he, though he would do his best.

Knowing that actions often spoke louder than words, Bubba knew that what the twins witnessed with their own eyes would outweigh whatever they might hear. “There’s only one thing Sarah and Billy really need to know,” he stated firmly, “that you and I are solid.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Bill eyed the cobbler on the plate before him longingly as he protested, “I really shouldn’t.”

With his wife sitting next to him, he knew he really, _really_ shouldn’t.

After serving dessert all around, Etta sat down in the chair next to him and reminded, “You’re makin’ up for lost time.”

She was right. He hadn’t partaken of her cooking in quite some time. Bill picked up his fork and announced, “That _is_ true.”

With the cobbler debate settled, Virgil felt it was imperative to get back to the subject at hand. Time was running out. They had discussed what he had done so far, now it was time to discuss what would come next.

He stated firmly, “Bubba should have legal counsel when he goes before the merit board.”

Bill interrupted his old friend by voicing his gratitude for his efforts. Harriet smiled and nodded her own agreement to her husband’s sentiments. Like a shark circling a school of fish, Virgil had kept the city council in an anxious frenzy, fearful of his intentions. 

Unlike fish, humans know when safety doesn’t come in numbers. It was quickly becoming every man for himself as they began pointing fingers and assigning blame just in case the rumors of an impending lawsuit were true.

Virgil, sensing he was being sidetracked for a reason, pressed, “I’ll represent him.”

He noticed the married couple sharing an uneasy glance and he assured, “I _can_ remain neutral. That won’t be a problem... unless it makes him uncomfortable.”

Virgil felt a twinge of guilt as he realized he had given Bubba a lot of reasons to be uncomfortable. He had asked questions that were more accusation than query. He had come right out and told Bubba he needed space. A man with no ill will didn’t need space.

As usual, Bill’s blunt style spared Harriet from having to comment. He stated simply, “You won’t have to be neutral. I’m not going to request a merit review.”

Virgil, about to remind the twins that funny faces were not appropriate at the table, found that he didn’t have to. The children picked up on the subtle change to the atmosphere around the table and grew more interested in the adult conversation than in each other. They watched their father turn back to Bill and ask doubtfully, “You’re not requesting a review at the next meeting?”

Bill noted that Virgil’s question still held a hint of hope that if not at this meeting, perhaps at the next. “I don’t think a review would be in Bubba’s best interest.”

“It’ll keep you in compliance with the council’s wishes,” Virgil reminded, still speaking with a hint of confusion in his voice.

Every adult present knew what that meant. The council would have to come up with some other excuse to get rid of Bill. That would take time and by then, the council’s window of opportunity would have closed. Most likely, it already had closed, as the council was losing its integrity. If they didn’t start the process to remove Bill from his position at the next meeting, they probably wouldn’t move at all.

Virgil continued to survey Bill’s expression for a clue as to why he was refusing. When he finally found one, Virgil became painfully aware of his children’s presence and knew it wasn’t the appropriate time to ask any more questions on the matter. For some reason, Bill was certain Bubba wouldn’t pass a merit review.

When he finally did speak, Virgil had given up on one subject and was determined to move on to another. He forced a chipper tone for his children’s sake. Addressing Bill, he said, “There was something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“After a fine meal like this, I won’t be able to rush off before you have the opportunity,” Bill assured.

The older man laid a hand on his satisfied belly to emphasis the point. To anyone who knew him well, his lighter tone sounded a bit forced to match Virgil’s.

Etta scoffed lightly at the compliment as she busied her hands retying the multitude of ribbons in Sarah’s hair. As the little girl protested, Etta soothed, “It’s still Sunday, child.”

The little girl looked to her father with big pleading eyes. He would have fought any battle for her, except one against Etta. Some opponents were just too fierce, so he smiled knowingly at his daughter and winked. Billy and he would suffer with their ties if she would suffer with her dangling ribbons.

Virgil turned his attention back to Etta’s other guests. “Marissa will take the stand on Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.”

Bill considered the news. They had previously discussed Blair’s trial and the implications it held for Parker. They were just waiting for the final word on a date. The older man finally admitted, “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

Virgil waited for a more definite response. He was well aware of the department’s difficulties and the chief’s priorities. If there was going to be trouble, now would be the time. He could understand if Bill couldn’t spare Parker during such a rough spell.

Bill finally assessed, “I think we can manage.”

A grateful Virgil nodded his thanks as he wondered if the department really could manage or if it was Bill’s softer side that couldn’t.

XXXXXXXXXX

Althea freed her hair from the neck of the sweater she had just slipped on and hastily stepped into her shoes. She could feel Bubba’s gaze on her and she knew he wanted her to stay. She shared the feeling.

Outside, the weather had taken an unpleasant turn for the worse, driving rain and sleet against the windows. It was the kind of dreary evening a person didn’t want to spend alone. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stay. The weekend was over and with it, Virgil’s visitation.

Though she had offered to tend to the dog and lock up for him, Bubba was determined to see her off. Throwing aside the covers, he quickly wished he had taken her advice and stayed in bed. The crisp air of the bedroom was in brutal contrast to the heat and sweat lingering on him after their lovemaking.

Althea watched as Bubba yanked on his jeans, prompting her to sigh, “Will you _ever_ take my advice?”

“Nope,” he teased, giving her a sidelong glance and a smirk as he zipped up.

He added seriously, “It ain’t right to not see a lady out.”

She asked with mock skepticism, “I’m still a lady?”

She had already done a lot of things with him and to him that would count her out of that category in a lot of circles.

Slipping on his shirt as he approached her, he assured, “Definitely a lady.”

A little disheveled and still glowing, she had more graceful femininity than most. By his standards, more than any.

For his compliment, she rubbed his weekend’s worth of stubble and smiled her thanks.

“Wish ya didn’t have to go,” he admitted.

Before she could echo his sentiment, the phone rang and she listened as the machine eventually picked it up. She could barely discern what was being said, but she got the gist of the call. They had come home to a lot of the same waiting on his machine, leading her to assess, “This town is full of people who can’t get by without your help, yet few of them seem eager to return the favor.”

Bubba took her hand and led her out of the bedroom, saying, “There isn’t a whole lot they can do.”

“They don’t know that until they ask and have they? No. Everyone wants more from the department, but they’re never willing to contribute anything to help make that happen....”

In the hallway, he stopped and pulled her close, hoping to diffuse the state she was working herself into.

She relented under his gaze, admitting, “But you don’t need me telling you what you already know. Yelling at _you_ isn’t going to change anything. It just infuriates me to see the department treated this way with no public outcry. To see _you_ treated this way.”

Her demeanor hardened with resolve. “You’ll get a pass from the merit board and you won’t have to go through this again... and I, for one, can’t wait.”

He pulled away from her to better study her face. “Who told you there’s gonna’ be a merit review?”

Sensing his doubt, Althea asked cautiously, “That is what comes next, isn’t it? They can’t fire you without a hearing. They can’t fire the chief without due cause. If there’s a hearing, he’s complied.”

Bubba’s expression softened, as he was reminded that all she wanted to do was help. All she wanted was for this to all be over, so he wouldn’t have anything to worry about. He hated to disappoint her. “It’s not that simple,” he drawled softly.

Sensing an unexpected rejection to her idea coming, she stressed, “Don’t you dare tell me this is suddenly about _principle_.”

He smiled, amused and a little enamored by her feistiness. “Ain’t that. At least, not for me it isn't,” he assured.

“Is it the chief who wants to make it about principle?” she asked firmly, still ready and willing to argue if the opportunity presented itself in his answer.

Only now did Bubba finally let some of his shame show. He confessed reluctantly, “I’ve done things... I did a lotta’ things before you and Virgil came along... done some since... things I’m not real proud of.”

He eventually came to the point. “I wouldn’t stand a chance in front of a review board... I know it... chief knows it. That’s why we haven’t asked for one.”

Despite his certainty that she didn’t know him and what he had done in the past, she was equally certain that she did. It was a small town, he was a popular subject and most importantly, Virgil had once disliked and suspected him. It was a perfect recipe for finding out the worst about a person.

Althea stated gently, “I know more than you think.”

“Ya wouldn’t associate with me if ya did,” he countered with certainty.

“You’re wrong... and you’re wrong about the review board.”

It seemed like the ultimate solution to her and it was an infuriating waste not to make use of it. Unable to just stand there and watch an opportunity being discarded carelessly, she turned and walked away.

Bubba stood and pondered the situation, still reeling from the thought that she might know more about him than he had realized. Eventually he moved to catch up with her. He didn’t want the night to end like this.

As he caught up with her in the foyer, she turned and asked him abruptly, “Are you _sure_ the chief agrees with you?”

As he hesitated to answer, she added, “You two haven't been on the best of terms lately.”

Hurt, thinking she suspected him of lying about his motives, he asked, “Ya hintin’ I wanna’ see him go?”

“No... No, that isn’t what I meant,” she corrected softly, not expecting him to take it that way.

It was now obvious to her that he was burdened with more guilt than she had realized. “You feel like this is your fault.”

“It _is_ my fault.”

The chief was going to lose his job and unlike the last time, he was getting too old to merely step into another. This was going to be it.

“If I hadn’t screwed up so much, I could pass a damn review.”

Althea looked into dark eyes full of regret. She knew he had made a few mistakes, but done far more good with his life. He didn’t deserve this. All she could do was reassure him with what little she knew for certain. “Bill Gillespie doesn’t stick his neck out for just anyone. He must think you’re worth it.”

Bubba was unwilling to believe that. Instead, he reasoned, “Chief’s _always_ got a plan. He’s got somethin’ else in mind. I’m sure of it.”

She added gently, “He’d have told you if he did.”

After taking a deep unsettled breath, Bubba admitted, “He doesn’t share much of anything with me anymore.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Harriet admitted, “Bubba would make a scene on your behalf. I can just see him going after Clark... not that I haven’t thought of strangling that man a time or two myself.”

The city council meeting was three days away and the couple was still in disagreement over what to do when the time came. Both did agree that Bubba’s presence would be ill advised.

“Bill, do you _really_ think Bubba has what it takes to replace you? He’s so....” She let the silence speak the rest for her as she paced the living room floor.

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ve never actually heard _him_ mention anything about it.”

When no reply came, she turned and looked to her husband. “Just because he’s the next in line doesn’t necessarily mean he _wants_ to take your place.”  
“You’re absolutely right," he agreed.

He paused, letting her relax, thinking she’d been vindicated. “He doesn’t want to take my place. He’s made that quite clear to me.”  
Aghast, she shrieked, “Bill!”

Finally, she gave up her attempts to scold him and only sighed in defeat, “If the council knew that, we wouldn’t be in this mess. It’s his replacing you that’s always had them so concerned... they won’t believe me if I try to tell them now.” 

“They wouldn’t have believed you _before_ now,” Bill assured.

She couldn’t argue with that, but there was something else she could argue about. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m going to talk him into it.”

Harriet stared, dumbfounded by the absolute certainty in her husband’s voice. “How? Are you going to guilt him into it... and why? The job could go to any number of other people....”

Bill interrupted his wife gently, “Bubba doesn’t want to do it, but he _should_ do it. Not for me or for Sparta, but for himself. He can do this and he deserves it. He just needs a push.”  
“I thought you weren’t going to interfere any more?”

Bill smiled, reminded of what he had learned long ago. She was a sly one.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was impossible for her to completely disconnect from her personal problems while she worked, but Dee Shepherd was making a noble effort. The frazzled bride-to-be handed a report to Lonnie over his desk and waited for him to comment.

As Lonnie took note of key points in the report, he asked off hand, “Still looking for a band for the reception? I know a guy....”

Looking up to see the expression on Dee’s face, the only point Lonnie could end on was a different question, “You’ve changed your mind? About the band?”

“No... no,” she stammered, temporarily shaken.

Lonnie leaned back in his creaky chair and studied the pretty blonde for a moment. She had an air of guilt to her. “You don’t seem quite as enthusiastic now. Having some second thoughts?”

He added supportively, “I doubt you’d be the first bride to have them.”

Dee pulled a chair up to Lonnie’s desk and sat down in it tiredly. “It’s not that I’m having second thoughts. I just feel like I’m not pulling my weight while I’m preoccupied with this wedding. I’m trying my best to stay focused.”

She graced him with a fond smile as she admitted, “But that’s hard to do when everyone is so eager to help.”

Lonnie couldn’t deny that he was guilty as charged along side every other member of the department. Even Parker had come out of his funk and joined in the anticipation. Lonnie was thinking of how much Dee was actually boosting morale as he reasoned, “No matter how much we wish we could, none of us can give one hundred percent all of the time. Life happens to all of us... and we all enjoy seeing life actually be good to one of us for a change... and it’s not _this_ wedding, it’s _your_ wedding. It should be a priority.”

She stated with frank honesty, though she was grateful for his kind words, “Knowing I’m leaving everyone in good hands is a higher priority to me. I’d feel better about transferring if there wasn’t all this uncertainty.”

Lonnie was notorious for his reserve, but Dee’s seasoned eye picked up a flicker of anger under his constrained exterior as he replied, “You focus on tying the knot. Leave tying up these loose ends to me.”

Dee stood to go with a renewed confidence that things really would be alright. Not just because she had faith in Lonnie’s abilities and instincts, but because he reminded her so much of Bill Gillespie. Maybe Lonnie had just picked up many of the older man’s traits or perhaps the two men had always had similar personalities, explaining their special bond. Whatever the reason, Lonnie left her feeling more secure about the future.

XXXXXXXXXX

“The chief wants you to put on your halo,” Lonnie warned as he tucked away the report Dee had just given him.

“What if I can’t find it?” Bubba asked.

A mischievous gleam came into Bubba's brown eyes as he propped his feet up on Lonnie’s desk. He was taking advantage of the chair Dee had left behind.

Lonnie suggested, “Borrow one if you have to.”

“From you?”

It was Lonnie’s turn to look impish. “I might have misplaced mine too.”

“So, what do I need it for?”

“Just in case something should happen to any of the new friends we’ve made, like Randall.”

Bubba scoffed, “As if I’d eva’ get that lucky.”

Lonnie couldn’t resist. “Speaking of getting lucky....”

Bubba tossed his friend an irritated glance, then smiled sheepishly. “I thought Parka’ was our resident Paul-Pry.”

Lonnie's gaze still prodded for an answer as he said, “Not today."

“Well,” Bubba began, rising to leave, “I’ll tell you what I’d tell him. A gentleman don’t kiss and tell.”

“Now I know it’s serious. She has you believing you’re a gentleman now.”

Bubba let the good humored jab roll off him and deliberately changed the subject, “Why’s the chief worried about Randall?”

“A lot can happen in a weekend,” Lonnie commented suggestively.

Bubba dropped back into his chair and grumbled, “Just ‘cause ya tell me yours don’t mean I’m gonna’ tell ya mine.”

Lonnie teased, “I couldn’t handle the gritty details, I’m sure.”

Bubba looked over his friend’s desk with obvious skepticism. They both knew it would be the other way around if they actually started swapping those sort of stories. Bubba seemed to get all the attention, but they both knew Lonnie was the real casanova. It had been more than once that Bubba wished he had Lonnie’s talent for loving them and leaving them.

As Bubba tried without success to even imagine a version of himself that could love Althea and leave her, Lonnie launched into a detailed account of what he had learned over the weekend. It didn’t take much for Bubba to get absorbed into the story. Rukan’s life could have easily been made into a movie.

When he was done, Lonnie asked, “Can you beat that?”

Bubba could have resisted the challenge, but it was far harder to pass up a chance to get a world of weight of his chest. Bubba admitted shyly, “She’s already talkin’ ‘bout gettin’ married... but she stressed it’s just _talk_.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. A sign he wasn’t entirely sure he believed her.

Lonnie was surprised by the timing, but that was all. It was an expected development, considering Althea had let it slip that she wanted to have another baby. Let it slip in a way that made it clear she already had her eye on someone in particular to be the father.

“Is that all?” Lonnie teased, as if not impressed.

“Ain’t that enough?” Bubba groaned back.

He could still feel the determination in her words. Althea might have been talking about just talking, but everything else about her said she wanted more. She had admitted she wanted more.

“Is there more?” Lonnie commented suggestively.

Between feeling like his mind had just been read and seeing an awareness flickering in Lonnie’s eyes, Bubba finally stood and growled defensively, “You’ve been stuck in here with the chief too long.”

If he didn’t know better, Bubba would have thought Lonnie knew about Althea’s sudden case of baby fever.

Lonnie watched Bubba go. With a little satisfied smirk on his face, he muttered, “Must have hit a nerve.”

Now he understood why the chief strove to nettle people so much. It was fun.

XXXXXXXXXX

After sitting down in the chair she had been offered, Rukan Al-Asmari gave the office a cursory glance before watching her escort close the door behind her on her way out. As soon as she was alone, Rukan glanced at her watch and made a mental note of the time. Over the years, she had found punctuality to be a good test of character. Someone who didn’t value her time didn’t value her.

Lonnie passed the test, walking in almost immediately. He closed the door to the office behind him and politely reintroduced himself.

If he could have read her mind, he would have known that the reintroduction wasn’t necessary. She couldn’t have forgotten him even if she had tried. She had found that most American men had a dismaying tendency to lack dignity. They were embarrassingly unrestrained in their words, emotions and actions, but not this one.

Sitting down behind his desk, Lonnie expressed, “I appreciate you coming down on such short notice, Ms. Al-Asmari.”

She merely nodded, not thinking it necessary to go into the details of why she had agreed to help. No doubt he had called her because he was as fully aware as she that fluent speakers of Arabic were a rarity in Sparta.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba sidled up to Virgil and chuckled lightly. “Boy’s so excited, he’s packed the kitchen sink and nothin’ else.”

Virgil smiled with satisfaction, happy to hear he had made the right decision to get involved.

“Settin’ this up was good of ya, Virgil.”

With a shrug, the black man admitted, “I’m just trying to pay back some debts.”

“I think I can speak for him, least ‘bout this... you don’t owe him anything.”

Virgil finally looked over at his friend. “I probably don’t owe you anything either?”

Bubba grinned brightly. “Hold up there, Virgil. I didn’t say that.”

Knowing he was getting his leg pulled, Virgil changed the subject. “What do you think of my new car?”

“Nice,” Bubba admitted truthfully. “You should park it next to my truck more often, makes it look even betta’.”

“They have these things called car lots. They sell cars. You don’t have to get all your vehicles at the junk yard.”

“That’s cold, Virgil,” Bubba muttered.

A moment later, they heard the front door slam behind them. They turned to see Parker bounding down his front steps frantically. For the past half hour, since Virgil had arrived with the news, nothing seemed to be happening fast enough to suit Parker. He couldn’t pack fast enough. He couldn’t give Bubba directions to take care of things in his absence fast enough. He couldn’t tidy himself up fast enough.

Parker was still buzzing with excitement when he came up and announced that he was finally ready. As he hustled off to load his bag into the car, Bubba looked to Virgil with mock pity. “Good luck, Virgil. Looks like ya got a baby sittin’ job to do.”

Virgil asked, “He will settle down won’t he?”

He remembered Parker as excitable, but never this excitable.

“Probably not.” Bubba grinned broadly. “This isn’t a girl, Virgil. This is _the_ girl.”

With a shake of his head that suggested he was beginning to wonder what he had gotten himself into, Virgil rounded the back of the car. Meanwhile, Bubba approached the open passenger side window and reminded his excited friend, “Don’t give Virgil too much trouble... and _you_ stay out of trouble.”

He leaned on the door wearily and sighed, “I don’t think I got it in me to come rescue ya again.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Virgil stepped out of the kitchen long enough to check on Parker’s whereabouts. His friend hadn’t budged, still staring wistfully out the large bay window in his ex-in-laws sitting room.

Virgil suspected his friend’s belly was full of agitated butterflies. He knew his would be if he were in Parker’s shoes. He had plenty of experience with the little winged insects, afflicted every time he and Althea were apart for any amount of time and then reunited. She no longer loved him like that, but he certainly still loved her.

When Virgil had retreated back into the kitchen, he stated into the handset he held, “I was skeptical at first, but then the chief told me about some of the things that went on between them....”

It was Althea’s turn to be skeptical, unable to believe that anything that happened during Bubba’s marriage could so negatively effect a potential merit board review. She said as much from the other end of the line and soon got a rehash of what Virgil had heard from Bill.

Though appalled by Tracy’s behavior, Althea had to admit, “I’ve heard worse.”

Virgil shook his head, despite her inability to see him. As a lawyer, his private life had to meet certain moral and ethical criteria. It wasn’t much different for cops. “His private life _will_ be called into question. Most of your patients don’t have that problem.”

She replied defiantly, “I still think he’d win.”

Her love for Bubba radiated out of every word, but Virgil didn’t let it sway him from his own opinion. “I agree, but maybe we’re just biased.”

“And Bill isn’t?”

Surely things hadn’t deteriorated between Bubba and the chief to that much of an extent.

“I think he’s biased the other way. He was here. He saw Bubba’s marriage implode. I think, for him, it’s more that he doesn’t want that dragged back out for everyone to examine, for Bubba’s sake. I think he’s willing to let his job go to prevent it.”

Althea admitted sadly, “Now I understand why Bubba’s never really talked about it.”

“He kept going back.”

Virgil regretted his words immediately and explained, “He’s probably not proud of that, even though we’ve all done it at one time or another.”

He certainly had, crawling back to Althea time and time again.

“Virgil....”

He noted the obvious hesitancy in her voice and gave her time. It wasn’t a reprimand she was working up to or he wouldn’t have.

“Thank you... for everything.”

XXXXXXXXXX

In a voice ripe with guilt, Marissa sighed, “Pearson will take the heat for me running off like this and I kind of like the guy.”

She then laid her head on Parker’s shoulder to assure him she didn’t like anyone nearly as much as she liked him. She might be feeling a tad guilty, but not enough to regret what she had done to have a few moments alone with him.

She didn’t need to assure him. She had done so already, when she had squealed with delight at the sight of him and thrown herself into his embrace. He couldn’t recall a time since that they hadn’t been touching in one way or another.

Even now, his right hand was intertwined with her left as he used his left to toss pebbles into the stream that ran beneath the bridge on which they sat. She had wanted to get away and he had followed her without question.

He had worried that he would compromise her safety, but seeing how easy their escape had been, he was now unnerved by the thought that she might never have been truly safe under federal protection to begin with.

“What will you do now?” he asked cautiously.

Her part in the trial was over. Further protection awaited her if she wanted it and she was obviously still considering it or she would have merely walked away earlier that day instead of sneaking.

She followed his example and plucked up a few of the pebbles that had collected at the edge of the bridge. Instead of throwing them one at a time, she swung them all out in a wide arc and listened for the distinctly different splash of each one.

“That depends,” she admitted.

“On what?”

He studied her face. The face he had feared he would forget as time passed.

“On you.”

She looked down and considered their clasped hands.

“They want to give me a new life, but I’m hoping there’s at least one good reason to keep my old one.”

She looked up at him hopefully. “Is there a good reason?”

He flashed the same warm smile that had caught her eye months ago. “I’m here, aren’t I.”

She feigned doubt, “You might just be a figment of my imagination.”

Parker kissed her to prove that he wasn’t.

XXXXXXXXXX

Luann Corbin turned her head because the stench was almost unbearable. The Plexiglas guard over her face protected her from any potential splatter, but it didn’t spare her olfactories. Certain she had successfully hosed out the reeking mixture of vomit and booze left in her back seat by an unwilling passenger, she turned off the water and lifted the shield over her face. The potent disinfectant would come next.

_And this is the glamorous world of law enforcement,_ she thought, ripe with discontent.

She was still thinking of all the other career paths she could have taken when she heard, “Captain, there’s a fella’ on the phone from the FBI wanting to talk to you.”

She turned to find Peake standing purposely upwind. She asked him, “What does the FBI want with me?”

“He asked for whoever was in charge, _C_ _aptain_ ,” he replied with a faint smile.

Luann stripped off her protective gear and found that she couldn’t refrain from smiling as she did so. It was still a new sensation, being _in charge_. Considering it was the FBI, a little of the new sensation of being in charge was anxious trepidation.

XXXXXXXXXX

After a lengthy conversation, mostly her just getting growled and ranted at, Luann cut the connection. She immediately looked to Peake, who had gone back to working the dispatch desk. “For the rest of the night, I’m _not_ in charge.”

Peake smiled and explained softly, “I don’t think it works that way.”

“I’m in charge,” she boasted, “and I say it _does_ work that way.”

She grabbed the keys to the supply cabinets, so that she could get the disinfectant she would need. Right now, cleaning up vomit seemed like a relaxing alternative to what she really needed to do. She was in charge after all, which meant she could postpone the inevitable until morning at least.

What could anyone really do? So what if Parker ran off with the FBI’s key witness. What could they do about it? Marissa had given her testimony. It wasn’t like they needed her back.

Unfortunately, Parker had a tendency to get himself into trouble.

As if he could read her mind, Peake held out the receiver to the phone on his own desk and remained poised to dial for her.

She reluctantly took it and sighed, “Who would be most pleasant at two in the morning?”

Peake didn’t respond. He only gave her a look that suggested she was out of luck.

XXXXXXXXXX

Though the concept had been to share, the dog was getting the vast majority of the potato chips. As Bubba struggled to find just one appetizing, Knothead found three or four dropped conveniently within reach. Of course, the hound reciprocated with his supportive presence, as always.

Bubba eyed a chip, aware that he should eat it. Unable to stomach it, he dropped it onto the floor. He had once told Althea that his recovery would take a while. He could no longer deny that it had now been more than awhile and he was in trouble.

He was out of the potent pain killers he had been using as a crutch to get him through his roughest days. Dawn was hours away and the day was already showing signs of being the worst yet and not just because the city council meeting was to convene that evening.

With a weary sigh, he tossed the dog another chip, thinking of Tracy and Parker’s protests. He mumbled to the canine, “How often do those two agree on somethin’... I should have listened.”

_But when do I eva’ listen_ , Bubba thought lightly.

The dog’s attention shifted from the open bag in Bubba’s hands to his master as Bubba chuckled softly at himself. Bubba had to laugh because the alternative was to fall apart. With Parker’s departure, the department was painfully short handed.

As the light over the sink grew painfully bright, he passed his hand over his eyes and waited for the strange sensation to pass. He reasoned that it was the sleeplessness catching up with him.

When the sudden sensitivity eventually did pass, he took the cue his body was sending and headed back to bed. As an after thought, he dumped the remainder of the potato chips in the dog’s bowl and threw away the bag.

The hound had already extracted himself from under Bubba’s chair and now hastily examined his dish. He was content to eat the contents until he realized Bubba was leaving without him. He licked his chops and obediently followed at Bubba’s heels despite the tempting dish full of goodies.

Bubba was beginning to mull over the dog’s strange behavior as the phone rang. He eyed the dog and asked, “You got a girlfriend that calls afta’ I go to bed?”

The dog looked skeptical, then hesitant, causing Bubba to chuckle despite his discomfort. The opposite sex probably put a very similar look of confusion on his face too.

When he answered and heard a familiar feminine voice, his smile lingered, until he heard her predicament. He attempted to put Luann at ease, “If somethin’ really has happened to Parka', Virgil would have called.”

Luann hadn’t considered that and Bubba could hear it in the way she stammered slightly about not knowing what she should do.

“Ya don’t have to do anything... no, ya didn’t wake me... if they call back, tell ‘em they should have been lookin’ afta’ her betta’....”

Eventually, she asked the question he didn’t want to hear. He rubbed the scar between his ribs where the ache was growing worse and answered honestly, “Not sleepin’ so good these days.”

“Is it wedding jitters?” she teased.

He managed a weak, but real smile, making a mental note that he needed to have a talk with the scrawny detective. “Nobody but Dee’s gettin’ married any time soon.”

Like the light over the sink a moment ago, all the answers he had been seeking became glaringly clear to him and he blinked numbly, shocked that he hadn’t seen it before now. He told Luann, “I won’t be in tomorra’.”

Knothead, after realizing they weren’t leaving the kitchen, had decided it would be okay to finish his late night snack after all. That done, he was sniffing under the table for more crumbs as Bubba managed to laugh and say, “No, I’m not gonna’ go lookin’ for him. I think we both know what those two snuck off to do... and if I got in the way, I’d probably just get shot again for my trouble.”

As he hung up the phone, he rubbed his scar again. Things had changed for Parker. A little joy had come into his life. Maybe good things weren’t always destined to turn to dust and blow away in the wind. He certainly hoped so, because he was gambling a lot in the hopes that something good was finally going to last for him too.

He invited the dog to sleep with him on the couch, feeling strangely optimistic about what he planned to do the next day. If anything, he could take comfort in knowing he was doing the right thing. It might not end well and it might not be easy, but it was right.

XXXXXXXXXX

Now interested, Peake looked at Luann with a faint expectant smile as she hung up the phone.

“What?” she inquired with forced casualness, noticing Peake’s sudden renewed interest.

“You’re thinking about something,” he suggested shrewdly.

A woman’s intuition was hard to explain. It was even harder to explain when you were supposed to be in charge in a male dominated environment. “Bubba just sounded a little stressed.”

Peake’s smile faded away. “Parker’s disappeared and the chief will take it on him for sure.”

She disagreed with a slow shake of her head. “It was more than that.”

A hint of Peake’s smile returned. “Maybe he really does have wedding jitters.”

Though she had teased Bubba about it, Luann really couldn’t see it happening. Bubba was just... and Althea was so... no, it just wasn’t going to happen.

She walked away without further comment, trying to imagine. She found that she really couldn’t. A passionate fling? Yes, but nothing long term.

As she unlocked the supply cabinet, she remembered how the two looked at one another when they thought no one was watching. They were destined to hop in the sack a few times, get it out of their systems and move on.

After collecting what she needed, she closed and relocked the cabinets. She just didn’t want to see anyone get hurt. Single and looking for a long time, she knew the potential was there. A fiery hot romance could burn out fast, leaving nothing but singed feelings and a pile of dirty ashes to show for it.


	13. Chapter 13

It was a nice hotel, but the walls were still not thick enough to drown out the blaring television in the room next door. It was ruining the mood.

She could have banged on the wall and hoped for a response, but in truth, there were other things taking Parker’s attention away from her. He had swung his legs off the bed as if to get up and hadn’t moved or said a word since. He just sat there with his head bowed into his hands, seeming to stare through the crisp white sheet draped across his lap.

Marissa tugged her share of the sheets up to cover her bare breasts before she said, “If you don’t want me to go back with you....”

“I do want you to come back with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t make it the right thing for you to do.”

“Life comes with risks.”

“You’ve taken enough chances already,” Parker reminded, finally pulling his hands down across his face wearily before looking back at her.

All those lonely nights in Mississippi, he would have given anything just to see her again. After making love to her, he feared he had pushed his luck. The powers that be would grow tired of him taking advantage of their kindness.

Marissa sat up and wrapped her arms around him, putting as much of her bare flesh against his as she could. She needed the connection. She needed the strength it gave her. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Yes, we do,” he admitted.

They couldn’t hide in a hotel forever.

She was unwavering, yet tender, as she said, “Then I’ll just say I’m going back with you and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

He took her hands in his. It was what he had prayed for, but he still knew it wasn’t the right thing for her to do. “You should go into the program.”

It was at times like this that he wished he was more like Lonnie or Bubba. They were the self-sacrificing kind. He was thinking of what they would do when he confessed, "I should tell you it was fun... that it didn't mean anything... then send you on your way."

She kissed his bare shoulder. "You're not a jerk."

"I should be, if that's what it takes to keep you safe."

"But, you're not a jerk," she repeated lightly. 

_Neither are they_ , he thought to himself, thinking of his friendsand the lengths they would go to.

She nuzzled his cheek and reasoned, “I don’t intend to make it easy for them to find me.”

Parker, realizing his recent folly, blushed slightly and turned away. “Everyone’s going to know who you are.”

“Is it that small of a town?”

“No, but I’ve got that big of a mouth.”

She kissed him and then traced his lower lip with her finger, admitting sweetly, “Seems normal to me.”

He sighed, “If something happens to you....”

“It’s _my_ decision,” she reminded softly.

“It’s _my_ job to keep you safe.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is now.”

Marissa let him slip out of her embrace as he threw the sheets aside. He stood, already planning the rest of his day out loud. After taking a shower, he would call Virgil and then call home.

“Will you do one small thing for me?” she asked cautiously.

He looked to her with a gleam in his eye that assured her that he would do anything for her.

“I don’t know what’s going on in this town anymore, Parker, but I know I don’t like it. Warn them.”

Parker returned to his place on the bed by her side. “We’ve been over this....”

That’s what worried her most. They had discussed this already. Pearson had never passed on her warning as she had asked.

So much time had passed since then. So much could have happened. So much could have gone unnoticed.

She put her hand on Parker’s arm and stressed, “Parker, warn them. I’ve caused you and yours enough trouble already. I don’t intend to let it happen again.”

She looked away, gathering her thoughts before admitting, “I feel like your family is all the family I have.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Aware that Bubba had taken the day off, Lonnie commented over the phone, “Decided to lay low for awhile? Not a bad idea, considering the mood the chief’s going to be in.”

Bubba kept his phone pinched between his shoulder and his ear as he buttoned his shirt. He looked at the clock. He had eventually fallen asleep, but that had eaten up the entire morning. It was now well into the noon hour. All the well laid plans he had made the night before would quickly slip away if he didn’t hurry. “So, ya heard ‘bout Parka’ huh?

“Luann told me when I came in this morning.”

“I take it the chief doesn’t know yet?”

“Luann didn’t tell him and I definitely don’t want to, but I will. He hasn’t been in yet.”

Bubba replied resolutely, “I’ll take care of it.”

Lonnie issued a rare chuckle and asked, “If you do that, what was the point of taking the day off?”

Thinking of exactly why he had taken the day off, Bubba quickly explained his situation, not allowing Lonnie a single opportunity to sneak in a rebuke. All he could do now was try to fix it. That was the conclusion he had come to the night before. It might not end well or be easy, but it had to be done.

It had to be done, because in that moment of clarity, he realized he wanted what Althea was offering him. Really wanted it and now that he really wanted her and the twins and maybe a child of his own, he was willing to do whatever it would take. That would mean, for the first time in a long time, putting himself first.

He was no doctor, but he knew taking a few brightly colored pills and coming to terms with getting a little older was not going to be the solution to whatever ailed him. He was looking at weeks off, maybe months... maybe forever. Which he could live with, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time. The pivotal city council meeting was only hours away.

Bubba concluded, “I know my timin’ couldn’t be any worse, but there ain’t much else I can do. I’m fallin’ apart here, Jamison. I just hope it’s not too late for the chief to figua’ somethin’ out.”

XXXXXXXXXX

When a woman found herself interested in a much older man, she had to think long and hard on the ramifications of such a relationship. That is if she wasn’t entirely fool hardy.

Harriet wasn’t fool hardy. She was practical. She was smart. Bill often teased her about being too much of both. Maybe he was right and maybe that was why she was so good at what she did. Maybe it was what got her reelected term after term and what had her approached time and again with appeals to set her sights higher.

She would remind those suggesting it that she was too busy and they would laugh. They would assume Eric, the only youngster left in the nest, kept her busy. They would also joke, that at Bill’s age, he practically needed a keeper.

They would laugh heartily and she would smile good-naturedly. Then she would go back to her _busy_ life. All the strategy and all the practicality in the world hadn’t prepared her for the baggage Bill actually brought into their relationship.

It hadn’t been Bobby. He was a fine boy and grown now. It hadn’t been Lana. She had made her mistakes, as young women do, but her independent streak always encouraged her to deal with them on her own. She was a great girl.

Harriet had been prepared for what changes Bill's little family would bring into her life. She had considered that long and hard before accepting Bill’s proposal.

It was the rest of them! She hadn’t considered for one moment that she would be adopting the entire Sparta P.D. Even when Bill wasn’t the chief of police, he had still been a father figure and confidant to all of them.

Making it more difficult, some of them were as stubborn and as poor at decision making as her son, Eugene. That nail had been driven home yet again.

Harriet watched her husband sitting and stewing in thought at his usual place at the kitchen table before she asked, “Have you heard from him, Bubba?”

“No, ma’am, I haven’t,” Bubba replied wearily from his own place at the table.

“Don’t think I will... not until he decides what he’s gonna’ do next. I did talk to Virgil though and Parker’s contacted him. Virgil knows he’s safe or _was_ , last time he heard from him, but he doesn’t know anything beyond that.”

Bill spoke up for the first time in awhile and did so angrily, “Why didn’t Virgil tell us himself?”

“He hoped Parka’ would have her back ‘for the FBI got themselves worked up enough to call us.”

“Parker will come home, won’t he?” Harriet asked worriedly.

Parker was the most prone to being led around by the heart.

“I think he’ll eventually come home,” Bubba replied. “He’s just tryin' to work it out.”

Bill growled, “He should have had it _worked out_ long before now.”

Bubba replied in Parker’s defense, “That’s easia’ said than done, Chief.”

“Because _you_ kept him agitated on the subject!”

A startled expression crossed Bubba’s tired face. “Me?”

Bill seemed unwilling to elaborate on the subject any further. He had made it clear Bubba was at fault and that was enough. As he passed the younger man on his way out of the kitchen, Bill didn’t acknowledge Bubba with so much as a glance.

Harriet watched her husband go, then offered, “I’ll talk to him.”

Bubba rose slowly from his chair and said, “Don’t botha’. He’s just in the mood to blame me for everything... and maybe this time he’s right. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept tellin’ Parka’ not to give up. Now that it’s come to this, I don’t see any good way it can end. No way that’ll keep her safe. Parka’ knows where she belongs. I know... chief knows....”

“Seems like all the men know, but has anyone considered what _Marissa_ knows?”

Bubba smiled shyly. He had walked right into that one and deserved it.

As one of her multitude of adoptees, Harriet placed her hand on Bubba’s arm as she would any of her own and gave some motherly encouragement. “My guess is that this is more Marissa’s doing than yours. Bill’s been short with me all day. He’s just worried about the meeting tonight.”

“About that....”

Harriet held up her hand to stop him. “We were up all night talking about that, Bubba. I’m talked out.”

Bill had the flexibility in his schedule to allow him to sleep in, but she didn’t have that luxury. She had gone to work on time that morning and was back for lunch, only to have to go back again. She was tired. Tired of it all.

Minutes ago, Bubba couldn’t imagine feeling any guiltier than he already did, but her words managed to make the pit of culpability he was trapped in a few feet deeper. He didn’t want to burden her now that she had expressed her feelings, but he didn’t want to face the chief either. He had hoped to tell her and let her break the news.

He finally asked, “Can ya at least tell me what he intends to do?”

She hadn’t been sworn to secrecy, but she feared that under the circumstances, secrecy was what Bill would prefer. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

“He’s not in the mood to talk to me.”

“He’s not in the mood to talk to anybody, but I make him talk to me anyway,” she reminded lightly.

Thinking that maybe if she understood the position he was in, Bubba explained his predicament, but spared her the worst details. “I’m just not feelin’ so well these days, ma’am. I’m probably lookin’ at some time off.”

Seeing the expression on her face, Bubba moved quickly to add, “Just don’t let him do anything foolish, alright.”

A distressed frown marred her lovely face as she suggested, “I think you should talk to him.”

Bubba headed for the back door. “Yeah... but would he listen?”

There was no real need for him to talk to the older man anyway. Harriet would tell the chief the only thing he really needed to know. That if he was counting on Bubba to be there when the dust settled, he might not be.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Tracy sighed.

Dee considered her friend’s words as she rhythmically stirred her partially melted milkshake. The two women walked around the square, enjoying a sudden warm spell during an otherwise colder than average January.

Dee had more than the indian summer to blame for her after lunch treat turning to slush. She had stirred and stirred and stirred. It was a nervous tic. “You’re just jaded,” Dee finally responded.

“No, I’m realistic. You think if it doesn’t work out, big deal. You’ll just get divorced and move on. Well, I can tell you from experience, it’s not that simple. Divorce doesn’t just magically end it all.”

“You always assume the worst.”

Dee was more focused on the positive. Focused on the potential that her relationship had. Focused on a long and happy life spent with someone she could count on. It would be an end to lonely nights and facing all of life’s battles alone.

Tracy corrected, “Anytime a man is involved, you have to assume the worst.”

With an amused shake of her head, Dee said, “You and Bubba really do have a love-hate relationship, don’t you.”

Tracy grew quiet before finally forcing a sad smile. “I love him and he hates me. I guess that does sum it up pretty well.”

Dee shot her friend a sideways glance, assuring the other blonde that they both knew better. Bubba didn’t really hate her. It just wasn’t in him.

“The way he drives me crazy... I _should_ hate him.”

Tracy tossed her head angrily, sending golden locks flying. “This last time... well, it _is_ the last time. I’m done!”

Caught taking a sip of her soupy milkshake, it took Dee a moment to inquire, “What did he do this time?”

Dee had no doubt it was something to do with Althea, but she wanted to give her friend the opportunity to vent. Dee knew it couldn’t be easy. Tracy had not only been vilified from the start, but now she was caught up in a contest of public opinion she could never possibly win. 

Althea was practically considered a saint. An opinion of the woman that Dee didn’t share. Though she liked Althea a great deal, Dee wasn’t as quick as others to forget how Althea had treated Virgil.

Had she been unfaithful like Tracy had been? No, but when things were tough, she had run away. At its core, that was no different than what Tracy had done. Tracy had run to other men. Althea had run home to Philadelphia.

Tracy looked away thoughtfully, having considered Dee’s question. _What has he done this time?_

Tracy shook her head. “It’s... it’s not something I should talk about.”

“Everybody already knows, hon,” Dee admitted.

Tracy stopped short, forcing Dee to do the same. The taller woman’s expression was a patchwork of emotions. “Do they know what’s wrong with him?”

XXXXXXXXXX

Harriet prodded, having heard the phone ring, “Well? Was it Parker?”

“No,” Bill replied softly as he glanced around the kitchen. “Bubba’s gone?”

“You didn’t give him much reason to stay,” she replied with an icy edge. “How could you blame him like that? _You_ were the one who agreed to let Parker go in the first place.”

“I hoped it would bring Parker closure.”

Harriet gave no reply, not wanting to fight with him. She was too tired.

“Did Bubba say where he was going?”

“No. I tried to talk him into talking to you, but he’s stubborn.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Like someone else I know.”

“I heard that,” Bill sighed as he returned to his place at the kitchen table.

It didn’t look like the couple would manage to have the nice quiet lunch they had intended to have before she had to go back to work. Between her full time job and her position on the city council and his often hectic role as Chief of Police, they sometimes saw very little of one another. They had grown accustomed to sharing sporadic little moments here and there during the roughest patches, like now.

“You really shouldn’t have been so hard on him,” Harriet chided softly, thinking of what Bubba had confided in her. She slid a plate with a rather boring looking sandwich on it under her husband’s nose, wondering how she could tell him without sending him into a tizzy.

Bill ignored his ham and cheese on wheat. “That phone call you thought might be Parker... it was Dee. Tracy has confided in her that she has... _concerns_.”

“About?” Harriet prompted as she sat across from him with her own plate in hand.

“About Bubba,” Bill replied shortly, not wanting to go into the details.

Like a parent, Bill felt within his rights to point out Bubba’s faults, but he took anyone else doing it personally. He was furious, thinking Tracy might be spreading unfounded rumors and he was more disappointed Dee would aid her in the task, though the less emotionally invested part of him knew that Dee’s intentions were good. She was just worried, as any true friend would be.

“Like I said,” Harriet reminded softly, “you shouldn’t have been so hard on him.”

Bill questioned his wife with a gaze. What was she implying? What did she know that he didn’t?

There would be no easy way to tell him, so she dove in. “Bubba told me before he left that he’s not well and that he may need some time off. He wanted you to know, in case it would have some impact on what you intended to do this evening. He’d have told you himself if you weren’t being so damned difficult.”

She added anxiously, “I think it may be serious.”

Bill interrogated roughly, “Did he say that? Has he seen a doctor?”

Dropping her half raised sandwich back onto her plate, Harriet reminded hotly, “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. And if you hadn’t scared him off, you could have asked him _yourself_!”

Bill muttered with irritation, “You should have asked.”

“I should have asked?” she mocked, matching his irritation. “Why didn’t _you_ ask? He’s been sick all this time....”

“I’ve commented on it more than once,” he stated defensively.

“But you never once said anything _to_ him.”

“I did.”

“No, you alluded. You hinted. You danced around it.” She slid her plate aside. “You’ve been keeping him at a distance. You keep pushing him away... you _hurt_ him... now more than ever!”

Bill rose to his feet quicker than seemed possible for his age as he growled sharply, “I have to.”

He announced it like it should make total sense, but it didn’t, so she asked, “Why? You don’t treat Lonnie like this... or Lana....”

“I won’t be around forever.”

“None of us will be,” she reminded, “But you’ve said it yourself, he’s quite capable of taking your place....”

“It’s not about the job,” Bill corrected gruffly, before softening and saying, “It’s about you and the children and _my_ department. It’s about _family_. Your oldest takes care of the family when you’re gone.”

She shook her head in bewilderment. “Bill, your _family_ is almost entirely grown.” She added lightly, “And I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“This isn’t about what the family _wants_ , it’s about what I _need_. It’s about _my_ peace of mind. I don’t expect him to take care of you. I would just feel better knowing someone was here... someone I could trust not to go anywhere.”

Harriet didn’t rush in to make her own point until she had given her husband’s moment of heart felt honesty the quiet moment of reflection it deserved. Only when he had sat back down with an air of embarrassment did she finally apology, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize....”

Bill reigned in his emotions, realizing they were giving away the deep betrayal he still felt to this day, having to watch Virgil and then Hampton seemingly abandon their posts.

He took his responsibilities more seriously than anyone could imagine. He cared more about the people around him than anyone, even Harriet, could imagine. That’s what happened when you had lost everything important in your life and had a hard reputation that you just couldn’t shake. You fell into a rut of caring and loving quietly, without receiving much in return.

What he couldn’t admit to his wife now was that Bubba had returned a lot over the years, especially when Bill was younger and at his lowest. That had meant a great deal to him.

Bubba would never give up on the people he cared about, like he hadn’t given up on a bitter lonely old man. Bubba would give until he had nothing left. That’s what Bill wanted to leave behind in his absence and in an instant, it was almost gone forever.

“I’m not angry with him,” Bill finally admitted. “He merely reminds me to be angry with myself... because it’s my fault that it’s too late to have the kind of relationship with him that I’d like to have.”

“Bill, it’s not too late,” she corrected. “Now is as good a time as any.”

His wife made it sound so easy, but Bill had his doubts. His close relationships with Bobby and Lana had come easily, because they had started out on the right path. He had started them on a path that would lead them to him. That’s what he had wanted.

Before that, he set his progeny out on paths that would bring them close, but not too close. That, at the time, had been what he had wanted. Fortunately, Lonnie had found his own way, straying off his set path when the time was right. Parker just went wherever he pleased, never heeding any path in the first place. All the others had come later, when Bill had finally put his demons to rest.

But Bubba had come along too early in Bill’s life and now the boy was grown and set in his ways and Bill had set him on a path to send him somewhere else. The bitter man Bill had once been didn’t want Bubba getting too close. Close, but not too close.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I couldn’t have done it without Rukan,” Lonnie admitted.

“Is that a little admiration I hear?” Bubba asked.

“A little.”

“And they have no idea what he’s up to eitha’?” Bubba inquired, referring to the various authorities Lonnie had contacted overseas with Rukan’s assistance.

After hearing from many of them how rampant corruption was within their ranks, Lonnie was grateful he had his own translator. One he could trust.

He couldn’t entirely trust the men he had talked to and Rukan was a far better lie detector than any other translator would have been. She had an immense stake in all of this.

“No, but they’re as suspicious as we are,” Lonnie replied. “They’ve been watching Brockhaus for some time.”

Bubba eased carefully down onto the sofa in Lonnie’s office, running out of what little steam he had mustered taking as many over-the-counter painkillers as he dared to.

Noting his friend’s discomfort, Lonnie asked, “Seen a doctor yet?”

“No, but I will,” Bubba assured, noting that Lonnie looked unwilling to accept any other answer.

“You don’t have much choice now. The chief called....”

“Yeah, I figua’d he would. I told Harriet... I intended to tell _him_ , but that’s a long story.”

Lonnie warned, “Well, now he’s looking for you... He wants to tag along.”

“Yeah,” Bubba groaned as he struggled to get up again. “That’s just what I need. I’d betta’ get outta’ here ‘for he finds me.”

“Bubba, I think this is just the first dose of bitter medicine you’re going to have to take. He’s determined....” Lonnie hesitated, uncertain if he should say more. “I think he wants to bury the hatchet.”

Bubba hesitated in his attempt to get up. Was their feud that obvious? Lonnie understood the chief better than anyone and if Lonnie seemed to think Bill’s intentions were amicable, perhaps he should take the bitter medicine as his friend had suggested.

“He’s on his way here,” Lonnie admitted, giving his friend one last opportunity to escape if that’s what he really wanted to do.

Bubba seemed to be weighing his odds of making a successful escape before he admitted reluctantly, “I don’t think things are as dire as this is gonna’ make it sound, but some things just naturally get a fella’ to thinkin’.”

Lonnie had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming.

“Ya know how my will’s made out,” Bubba mumbled shyly. “I owe so much on the house, it’ll be more trouble for you and Parka’ than what it’s worth.”

Lonnie had been right, he didn’t like it.

“I know I can trust you two to do what I ask without havin’ it in writin’. I don’t care how ya do it. Go ahead and take your share of what I do have in it... just make sure Thea gets the house in the end if she wants it.”

The detective could only nod with understanding. It was a simple agreement that he would make sure his friend’s wishes were fulfilled. Though it wasn’t something Lonnie had wanted to talk about, the conversation was inevitable. No one lived forever. Not him. Not Bubba. Not anyone.

Lonnie pushed his dark thoughts aside and managed a sly smile. “I know you’re afraid of having her move in, but don’t you think this is a little extreme.”

Bubba leaned forward, eager to give Lonnie a piece of his mind on the subject, when Peake poked his head inside the office door. “Parker’s on line two, Detective.”

The two old friends shared a glance as Lonnie moved to pick up the phone. As Bubba listened to the mostly one sided conversation, he grew uneasy. The chief’s arrival was growing nigh and he was beginning to lose his nerve.

Bubba drew his conclusions from what little Lonnie managed to say. Nothing said gave Bubba reason for concern, so he struggled slightly to get to his feet and moved to take his leave. Despite Lonnie’s advice, Bubba just couldn’t bring himself to face the chief.

As if on cue, Lonnie announced, “He wants to talk to you.”

Bubba took the receiver, unable to walk away if Parker needed him. As he offered a genuine, but tired greeting, he was thinking of the irony of it all. He couldn’t say no to his friend and that tendency was what had brought him to this point.

He couldn’t leave Marissa, though he barely knew her. He couldn’t leave the department short handed, though he knew he was only making his condition, whatever it was, worse. Now, he couldn’t leave Parker, though the chief’s wrath would be fierce.

After only a grumbled acknowledgment that he understood, he returned the receiver to its cradle.

When the chief's arrival through the front door didn’t even grab Bubba’s attention, Lonnie stated with concern, “I take it there’s something Parker didn’t want to tell me.”

“No,” Bubba sighed, “it was just more about me.”

_And maybe Thea_ , he thought before he warned, “Marissa’s... worried.”

Bill Gillespie growled from the open doorway, “She’s not the only one.”

Feeling overwhelmed and assaulted from all sides and especially from the inside, Bubba offered no reply. If he didn’t have the strength to face the chief, where would he find the strength to face whatever Marissa feared might be coming.

XXXXXXXXXX

During the night, the hospital’s Emergency Department throbbed with life, but in the early evening, in a small county seat hospital, the Emergency Department grew subdued. The hustle and bustle was elsewhere. Visitors were coming and going. The last of the days' out-patients were trickling out as various offices and labs were closing.

The hushed atmosphere began to play on Bill Gillespie’s nerves. He was used to a raucous late night ER, where they stitched up his boys after they had broken up a particularly nasty bar fight or scuffled with a drunk driver who didn’t want to sleep it off in the tank. His boys rarely ended up here when the sun was going down and never like this.

Bill pulled his chair up next to the padded examination table where Bubba laid, looking like he could easily fall asleep if given the chance. The old man asked gruffly, “Feel better?”

Bubba wished he hadn’t agreed to take what they had offered him. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Just something to take the edge off his pain, because it was going to be a little while longer. Though the doctor had made an initial diagnosis, the full extent of his problem wasn’t quite clear yet.

He finally answered the chief with effort, “Not really... I feel queasy... and a little... disconnected.”

The chief nodded solemnly. He had a gut feeling the young doctor wasn’t taking their repeated warnings seriously.

Bubba was about the size of an ox, but he couldn’t be drugged like one. Unfortunately, upholding the law was Bill’s specialty, not medicine. He had to trust that the physician knew what he was doing and now, to Bill’s unease, the kid had one strike against him.

Even as Bill considered how to handle having the young doctor replaced, a familiar face arrived. Though Bill would have been happy to see Frank Robb, he was more pleased to see a prettier face.

Dr. Winona Day offered them both a warm greeting before admitting, “Word spreads fast around here, though _officially_ it’s not supposed to.”

Her gaze settled exclusively on Bubba as she asked lightly, “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Bubba was able to offer a coherent answer, though slowly, “You make it sound like I’m a regula’ ‘round here.”

“You _are_ a regular around here,” she teased back.

She approached him, not liking the unsteady rhythm of his speech and knowing from experience that he was prone to being over medicated.

She gave him a quick go over and then retreated to find out what he had been given. Bill could discern from the sigh that escaped her that she wasn’t pleased. She didn’t have to ask if they had warned the attending physician. They always did.

Winona eventually looked up from the chart in her hands and Bill could tell that she shared his frustration. Bill scowled back deeply, suggesting the doctor should deal with her younger associate before he had an opportunity to do it himself. With that, Winona left. Her intentions quite clear.

Meanwhile, Bill rolled his chair closer to Bubba. Being there just didn’t feel like enough. He needed to do more, he just had no idea what. His bedside manner was beyond poor. It was nonexistent.

After throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure they were alone, Bill blurted, “I’m sorry.”

Bubba futilely tried to blink the drugged haze out of his eyes. “What? Why?”

“Parker running off with that girl wasn’t your doing. Nothing I’ve blamed you for lately has been your doing.”

Bubba replied, “ _This_ is my doin’. This is _entirely_ my doin’.”

“I didn’t blame you for this, boy... and I won’t. You did what you thought was best for that girl and did what needed to be done when it didn’t work. There was nothing more that you could have done.”

“I’ve made a lotta’ bad choices since then.”

Bill asked bluntly, “Did you lie to Robb?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I don’t see how this is your fault. He found you fit.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t long ‘fore I knew I wasn’t.”

Bubba shifted uncomfortably. To add insult to injury, the drugs that clouded his mind weren’t even really doing much to alleviate the problem they were prescribed for. He still ached with every breath.

“You did the right thing when the time came.”

“For once,” Bubba corrected, smiling weakly.

There was something Bill wanted to say about that, but he refrained. There were a lot of things he wanted to say that wouldn’t be easy to say. He wanted to say them just once and know with a certainty the boy had heard and understood. This was not the time. Instead he offered, “Winona will have you up and around in no time. She always does. When you come back this time, it’ll be for good.”

“And if not,” Bubba mused lightly, “what should I do, Chief? What career path did I miss?”

Bill pondered the question for a moment, then admitted, “I always thought you’d make a good elementary school teacher.”

Bubba wasn’t sure if he was being teased. He hadn’t expected a response at all, except perhaps a scolding for even considering doing something else. “A teacha’? Why?”

“The children would be too afraid of you to misbehave. It would essentially be the same job you have now... you’d be working with deviants... just smaller in stature.”

Thinking of the soft spot he had for kids, Bubba replied with a laugh, “They’d walk all ova’ me, Chief.”

He was still chuckling when Winona returned, leading her to admit, “Well, I never worry too much about a patient if they can still manage to laugh a little.”

Noticing the contraption she had in tow, Bubba finally saw the bright side to being disconnected and exhausted. He was too tired to care what kind of torture was about to befall him.

XXXXXXXXXX

A boy stood in the open doorway. He was staring out at the unexpected visitor as only a teenager could. He had either yet to master the art of hiding his emotions or just didn’t care to. They were all there, written on his face for Lonnie to easily read. _You’re old._

The youth looked past the stranger to the beat up sedan parked at the curb. _Your car is old._

He took account of the detective’s boots, his sunglasses and everything in between before stepping out of the way at his mother’s insistence. Lonnie still caught the kid’s last thought. T _his old guy’s going to hit on my mom. This is bullshit._

The boy’s mother could obviously read her son’s mind just as readily and didn’t appreciate his opinion, making Lonnie fight to stifle an amused smile. He had been that age once too, though the kid would never believe it.

He had thought the same thing about men who came around. Unfortunately, his mother didn’t have the good sense the woman before him seemed to have. Plus, his motives were more benign, unlike the men who had come calling on his own mother.

Rukan’s gaze drilled into her son’s back as he clamored up the stairs with an air of aggression. When the boy had slammed his bedroom door closed behind him, she said, “I apologize for my son’s rudeness."

The detective had seen much worse, but that was never a consolation to parents like Rukan. Parents that held their children to their own standards, not comparing them to social norms or averages. _Better than most_ was good enough for some, but not good enough for her.

Knowing nothing would appease her on the matter, Lonnie merely accepted her apology and moved on.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba had gone from seeing everything in triplet to seeing the right amount of things, but misperceiving their distance. After two failed attempts he finally got his hand under the passenger side door release on the chief’s truck and pulled. Opening the door shifted his balance and he recovered it with some difficulty.

Staying close, Bill was prepared to steady the younger man if he needed it. “I should have been more persistent with her.”

Bubba wasn’t very graceful getting into Bill’s truck, but he managed to do it. Bill was still hovering at his side as Bubba asked, “Don’t ya trust her professional opinion?”

“You’re only agreeing because it's what you want,” Bill snorted before slamming the door shut.

Bubba waited until the older man had joined him in the cab and had closed the door before asking, “You think I want any of this?”

“Of course you don’t.”

Bubba fumbled with his seat belt. After it was snapped into place, he hesitated a moment before pulling it taunt. He now knew an abscess the size of his fist lurked under his ribs and right next to it, another the size of a golf ball. He couldn’t help but reevaluate every move he made. Every strain he put on his body.

Bill went on to reason, “But you can’t argue that you’d be better off here if something happened.”

The something Bill feared was if one or both abscesses were to burst. Winona had explained it by comparing Bubba’s condition to having an inflamed appendix. If the appendix burst, it would make treatment much more difficult, but not typically fatal. The real threat in Bubba’s case, laid in damage done to the surrounding tissues, mainly Bubba’s liver. Rich in blood vessels, damage to the region, as Bubba already knew first hand, could be life threatening.

After Winona’s assessment with the portable ultrasound had confirmed her suspicions of an abscess, the easiest course of action would have been to insert tubes to drain the infected areas and place him on a wide range antibiotic. When certain of the exact infection after a culture was done, she would have placed him on a more specific antibiotic and expected a full recovery.

Needle aspiration was the easiest course in a typical case. Unfortunately, Bubba’s case was far from typical, making the easier procedure not likely the right one for him. There were two areas of infection, not just one. The smaller would be difficult to reach due to the larger, which itself was large enough to make surgery as attractive an option as aspiration.

To add to the difficulty, Winona suspected a great deal of scar tissue in the region. It would not only make aspiration more difficult, but may have actually attributed to the condition in the first place. Until the underlying cause had been found and addressed, the infection was likely to return again and again, especially considering his age.

Bubba could tell by the look on the pretty doctor’s face that she hadn’t wanted to be the bearer of bad news as she had explained all of that to him. She looked no more pleased as she admitted, “I also think you should see a specialist. We could perform the procedure here today, but I could only offer you a good short-term prognosis, Bubba. Not a good long-term prognosis.”

With the tender bedside manner she was well known for, she added, “And that’s what I want you to have. A good _long-term_ prognosis.”

Trusting Dr. Day as he did, Bubba was willing to follow her advice and wait. Like her, he just wanted it done once and done right. For that, he was willing to wait, even after Winona had gotten back to him with a date. He could wait three days and he could tolerate the short trip to Jackson.

Bubba finally responded to Bill’s protests. “I’m just gonna’ go home and take it easy like she told me to.”

Bill knew he would never win the argument. Winona had seen no problem with Bubba passing the time until his surgery outside of a hospital, as long as he didn’t do anything foolish and watched for a long list of warning signs she had given him. With the doctor’s approval, what weight did his own arguments really have. None!

“You’re going to stay with some one,” Bill ordered.

“Chief...,” Bubba began to argue. Having someone under foot or being under someone else’s feet would defeat the purpose of the relaxation he was trying to attain.

“You can stay with us... or someone else.”

He wouldn’t mention the name that came to mind. Bubba did have other options. Other friends. “Just know, whoever it is, I intend to give them strict instructions....”

Bubba had been staring out the window, unable to believe he had stumbled into this humiliating mess. He didn’t want to be babied. From what Winona had described, it sounded like he would have enough of that after his surgery. He didn’t need it now. He just wanted to hold onto his pride for the few days he had left.

Bill finally concluded his rant. “... Can you stay out of trouble for three days?”

Winona had given him a prescription and after the concoction he was currently pumped full of wore off, he intended to take it and sleep away the next three days like a bear in the dead of winter. “I just wanna’ go home, Chief,” he admitted tiredly.

The older man watched as Bubba struggled to keep his eyes open. He didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that going home wasn’t really an option, unless someone stayed with him at all times. His condition couldn’t be taken lightly. Winona had made that quite clear. If the circumstances were any different, she would have had him in an operating room already.

Bill slipped his truck into gear and pulled away from his parking space. At the exit to the hospital’s parking lot, he had no choice. He had to ask. He needed to know. “Would Althea tolerate your presence for three days?”

Relieved that he didn’t have to make the suggestion himself, Bubba admitted, “Yeah, she probably would.”

He paused briefly, as Bill turned out of the lot in the necessary direction. He then said, “Can ya at least take me home so I can get a few things?”

“So you can barricade yourself inside and refuse to come out? No!”

Managing a smile, Bubba argued, “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, you would!”

Amused that someone, especially the chief, thought he was that stubborn, he gave in with a light chuckle. “Alright, you win.”

“I always win,” Bill corrected lightly before coming to a stop sign.

“That ya do, Chief,” Bubba admitted.

Before Bill pulled through the intersection, he looked to the younger man until Bubba finally looked back at him. Bill’s expression said it all. He was sorry for everything. Sorry if he was just a little too observant for his own good. Sorry for being right all the damned time. Sorry for not being more approachable.

Bubba smiled back faintly and nodded, teasing, “But you have to tell her.”

The chief knew exactly who and what he was talking about. “No, I most certainly do not.”

“This _was_ your idea.”

Bill considered the variety of reactions Althea could possibly have to the news. “I’ll take you somewhere else.”

“Too late, Chief.”


	14. Chapter 14

During a lull in the trio’s conversation, Parker sat in his cramped airline seat and began to dread the fast approach of his homecoming. He hadn’t exactly garnered a lot of respect from his superiors or his coworkers over the years. What would Marissa think of him once she had learned that back home he was really a nobody?

Under further consideration, he realized he would rather be a nobody than what he really was. He was the heel of all the department’s jokes. He was a screw up, with his head in the clouds, or worse, with his ear against a door trying to eavesdrop.

Marissa’s timing couldn’t have been worse as she broke the silence, turning to her right to ask, “So, what am I in for, Virgil? What’s Sparta _really_ like?”

Virgil considered her question for a moment, before admitting, “It’s like any other little town. It has its good points and its bad points. Not quite as pristine as a little town is supposed to be, but no little town ever really is.”

“I keep picturing Mayberry,” she confessed.

There was a hint of doubt in her voice, suggesting she knew better than to hope for that.

“In some ways, it is Mayberry... if you don’t let the few bad seeds ruin it for you. The pace is slow, the people are nice, everyone knows everyone else... and if they don’t, they’ll just pretend.”

Marissa’s face beamed with a big grin. “And all this time I thought Parker was weird, knowing everyone like he does... telling me stories.”

Virgil glanced past the brunette to Parker, who was looking a little embarrassed. “Well, Parker is a bit weird,” he warned good-naturedly.

Without hesitation, Marissa announced for Parker’s benefit, “I like weird.”

“Sparta has plenty of that too,” Virgil admitted with a chuckle.

Parker’s friend was always quick to smile and it had made a good first impression on Marissa. Virgil’s warm wit and intelligence had sealed the deal. She liked Virgil and it said a lot about Parker. In some ways, men really could be judged by the company they kept.

XXXXXXXXXX

The young blondes were attractive and everything about them suggested they were interested, but Chiaruttini avoided the eye contact that would have brought them to him. He looked away and let the two interested women pass him by as he waited for his contact to arrive.

On his arrival soon after, Chandler Compton’s gaze sought out the two blondes, who were continuing on their jog around the city park’s small duck pond.

He nodded his approval. “You don’t mix business and pleasure. You’ll live long enough to see retirement.”

Che Che kept his own gaze locked on whatever had his attention beyond the water. “Do people like us ever really retire?”

“No, I suppose we don’t.”

When Brockhaus finally bid farewell to the States, he would be bidding farewell to his most trusted associate as well and that left Chandler questioning his future. For people like him and Chiaruttini, there weren’t many options. Men like them didn’t suddenly settle down, work an eight hour day and take evening classes in database management or workplace Spanish.

In Chiaruttini and Brockhaus, Chandler felt a kinship. A little civility in an uncivilized profession. He thought of that strange bond as he said, “Do it tonight.”

“How?” was the simple reply.

“You’re a professional. You’re paid a great deal to make those sort of decisions for yourself.”

“And the councilman?” Che Che inquired with an eerie neutrality.

“That too is at your discretion.”

As Chandler Compton turned to walk back to his car, Che Che called after him solemnly, “Men like us don’t retire... and we don’t have friends.”

Chandler could feel a kinship towards the other men, but knew he would never experience true friendship. “No. No, we don’t.”

Che Che nodded, still staring out over the pond. He didn’t trust anyone, but there had been a few over the years he could respect. Chandler was one of them. Che Che had known that day, watching Chandler lock those hazel eyes on the detective, with that calm expression on his face. All while Brockhaus’ ex-wife watched on.

Chiaruttini had seen a lot of tough guys go soft under a cop’s gaze, whether they were conscious of it or not. It came out in different ways, but usually it came out as transparent bravado. Chandler, on the other hand, was cold as ice to the end. He was exactly the sort of man Che Che could imagine a disturbed bastard like Brockhaus putting his trust behind.

After the winter wind had buffeted his coat around for the past half hour as he had waited, Che Che had to straighten it before heading back to his vehicle. He didn’t like Brockhaus. He didn’t like Randall. He didn’t like what either man was up to or at least, what he suspected both men were up to.

Unfortunately, he liked the money, so he intended to stay. He intended to stay just long enough to do what he had been asked to do and as he opened up the driver’s side door, he admitted to himself why it really was that he was staying. Why he was staying with no real feeling of guilt or conscious. He was not a good man.

Detective Lonnie Jamison was the good guy, not him. The cop had come to Rukan’s aid as he had just stood back and watched Chandler terrify her with threats of taking her children. Taking the only thing she had left.

As he started the car, Chiaruttini realized that he did have a tiny bit of a conscious left. Some things were too much even for him. The scared look on Rukan’s face would haunt him forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bubba glanced up at Althea and then glanced to the chief as they came into the room to gawk down at him like he was a sideshow attraction lying on Althea’s couch. “You two done yellin’?” he asked, feeling guilty that he was the cause of it all.

Bill corrected, “We weren’t yelling. _She_ was yelling.”

Althea argued in her defense, “I was not yelling. I was being... _assertive_.”

Both men shared an amused glance before Bill launched into his list of what he expected them both to do and be watchful for. As Bill concluded, he laid his hand tenderly on Althea’s arm, a sign that there were no sore feelings. He commented softly to her, “If he doesn’t do as he’s told, I’ll make him come stay with me.”

He looked to Bubba and reminded gruffly, “Do as she tells you!”

That said, Bill saw himself out in haste. He still had the unpleasant task of facing the city council later that evening.

Althea stood motionless, arms crossed, until she heard the front door close. She then looked to Bubba. “Did you get all of that?”

“Yeah, do believe I did.”

For a moment, they just looked at one another, then Althea giggled despite her best attempts not to.

She tried to be serious. “It’s not funny. It isn’t... and he’s right.”

She continued to snicker anyway. The chief obviously didn’t think Dr. Day’s mandates were enough and had added a few of his own, taking it to a comical extreme.

Bubba groaned, “He’s been like that all afta’noon.”

Althea could sympathize. Bubba had enough to deal with, not needing the chief smothering him on top of it all. Despite her moment of levity, the situation was still quite grave. Considering how grave, she had to join Bill in wondering if Winona had made the right decision.

She sat down next to him on the sofa’s edge, close enough that she could see the drugs still lingering in his gaze. Uncertain of what to say under the circumstances, she began to run her fingers through his hair. Her touch and the drugs began to lull him to sleep.

Despite looking innocent, she knew Bubba was far from inculpable. Exasperated with him and scared, she asked, “What am I going to do with you, Coach? I kept asking you if you were okay and you just kept lying to me.”

Still awake, Bubba opened his eyes and keenly studied hers. How angry was she really? Or hurt? Or disappointed? She was right. He had lied. All he could do was explain, “I just kept tellin’ myself it would eventually get betta’.”

“You could have told me that. I’d have understood. It’s that you lied to me. That’s what hurts.”

“I won’t make excuses ‘bout why I did it. I did it, I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry.”

She avoided his gaze for a moment, wondering what more she could ask of him. He knew he was wrong and he was sorry. He wasn’t just saying he was sorry, he meant it. 

Despite being able to tell the difference, she still felt inclined to test him, reminding, “Being sorry doesn’t magically fix everything.”

“I know.”

“And it won’t take back this... _sick_ feeling I have. I want to be mad at you, but I just can’t be. I’m too busy feeling... _everything else_.”

He could have argued that he knew that feeling, still experiencing it whenever he thought of her foolishly returning to Philadelphia too soon, but it wasn’t the time. It was never the time to suggest two wrongs made a right.

Just because she had done it to him, didn’t give him the right to do it to her. If anything, knowing how it felt made him more guilty. He knew firsthand what he was setting her up for. He knew that sick feeling all too well.

XXXXXXXXXX

The older children began to clear the table as Rukan wiped her messy toddler’s face and hands. Only when the youngster was set loose to cause havoc with some colorful toys on the carpet did Lonnie pick up their previous conversation. He motioned to the little girl on the floor and said, “With your hands so full, do you manage to find time for any hobbies?”

Rukan eyed the little bit of liquid that remained in her drinking glass, cruelly aware of how little she really knew about American culture, especially about American men.

She answered the question, “I paint... a little.”

She wondered if she had made a mistake asking the officer to stay for dinner. In her culture, guests were to be treated well, so it seemed the right thing to do at the time.

Lonnie gestured to the walls and the art that hung there.

Rukan nodded shyly. “What do you think?”

He studied the nearest piece more keenly and then replied with sincerity, “You’re very good.”

Intrigued and knowing that artistic people tended to dabble in various media, he added, “You paint. What else do you do?”

She confessed, “I play the piano.”

He had noted the presence of a sad looking piano tucked away in a corner. “Do you play often?”

“Not as often as I’d like. Do you play?”

“Some. The piano mostly."

He made a face that assured he wasn't being modest, "The guitar, but I'm not very good."

Rukan fought against the concepts taught to her in her youth, that women were not to ask too many questions of men. “Any other hobbies?”

“Well, I have a few, but not a lot of free time.”

He refrained from going into greater detail. He knew he was too dedicated to his job for his own good. He admitted abruptly, “I really should be going.”

He had been partially distracted all afternoon, worried about the looming council meeting, Parker’s return and most of all, what the doctors had to say about Bubba.

Rukan let a sense of disappointment roll over her. It didn't subside as she stood to see him out. She was given another chance to look him over and she was liking his tall, rangy build more and more.

She had been attracted to her ex-husband’s strength, charisma and his air of mystery. She now knew how to detect when those things were false in a man. Brockhaus wasn’t strong, he hurt people to cover how truly weak he was. He had no charisma, he just lied well and there was no mystery to him either, he was just insane. In her guest, she sensed all those qualities were genuine.

“Are you married?” she asked casually as she followed him to the door.

Things would be so much simpler if he were married.

“No. No, I’m not,” he answered, evaluating what a question like that from a women like her meant.

He had found something alluring about her from the start. He detected in her a sense of pride and dignity he seldom saw anymore. Perhaps it was cultural. 

It wasn't sinful pride. She merely demanded the best. Not for herself, but from herself and from her children. To do anything short of her best was not honorable.

“G _irlfriend_?” she asked carefully, still uncertain of her English at times.

A tingle of uncertainty, even shyness, that was unusual for him made him respond with caution, “No. I’m not seeing anyone.”

She opened the front door for him without further comment on the subject, which he took to be a sure sign that she was just making small talk to be pleasant.

XXXXXXXXXX

A record crowd had attended the city council meeting in hopes of seeing fireworks. The crowd was slowly breaking up around the couple as Harriet spotted Althea making her way through the crowd towards them.

Before Bill could even begin to fret about what her presence meant, Harriet asked Althea forthright, “Is Bubba behaving himself?”

Althea replied, “With Etta watching, he had better be... and the twins would tattle on him for sure.”

Bill nodded his approval of Etta. “Excellent choice.”

Althea quickly explained, “Mary Reed started to lose her nerve and asked me to come along.”

“Was that your doing?” Bill asked, thinking of Mary’s pleasant words at the meeting.

“No,” Althea admitted, “she wanted to do something to show the department she appreciated all you’ve done for her. I merely made the suggestion that she come down and say a few words on the department’s behalf.”

Harriet spoke up, “Well, it helped. Things went far better than we’d hoped.”

As if on cue, Virginia Skirvin broke out of a nearby cluster of citizens wanting to see their names in print the following morning. Though a few actually had a good quote or two to offer, she had her sights set higher. “Chief, any comment for the Herald?”

“Do I ever have a comment for the Herald?” Bill snapped in the jovial gruffness he saved for pretty young women.

“No, but that day may eventually come and I want to be the one to get it,” she teased back.

The reporter then turned to the other half of the couple. “Harriet, how about you? Any comment?”

Harriet admitted to the young journalist, “You’ve been rough with the other council members all night. I was beginning to feel left out.”

Virginia replied, casting a brief smile in Althea’s direction, “Just clearing up some pesky rumors."

The reporter went on to ask, "So, is the shakeup over or is this just the end of round one?”

“For the sake of the city,” Harriet expressed passionately, “I hope we’ve finally put this issue to rest. I think Mrs. Reed expressed a sentiment that’s commonly held, but seldom heard in these gloom and doom times of ours... during a time when good news doesn’t sell. She praised the Sparta Police Department for going above and beyond. This city can’t afford to lose such a valuable asset and it will if certain members of our city government continue to put their noses where they don’t belong. The council has its say when it chooses a police chief.”

Harriet looked to her husband and continued, “The council was fully aware when it reinstated Bill that he had a certain way of doing things. If the council wants someone who’s willing to provide more interaction with them and will allow them to dictate more department policies, I suggest they keep that in mind when the time eventually comes to hire the next police chief.”

Grinning broadly, Virginia clicked off her antiquated tape recorder in dramatic fashion. “You always make my job so much easier.”

She could always count on Harriet to be a voice of reason that she could anchor her story to in choppy seas. “Now, if you all will excuse me, I see someone I have to catch before he gets away.”

“More rumors to chase?” Althea asked.

“Always. This is Sparta after all.”

That said, Virginia was on her way.

Althea was left to endure the married couple’s suspicious gazes, until she replied lightly, “You heard her. This is Sparta. Rumors abound.”

“Those rumors start somewhere.” Bill reminded, thinking of the rumors that had obviously brought Virginia investigating in the first place.

Virginia had pounced on most of the council members as they had arrived, asking questions that left them even more worried about the future. If they hadn’t arrived with doubts about following Randall, they had them by the time the meeting was called to order and it showed as the night wore on.

The mood of the trio's discussion darkened as Harriet reminded, “Randall has been up to something all this time and now we’ve likely ruined it for him. I’m wondering what he’s going to try to do about it.”

From the very beginning, the department had been hoping to push Randall into making some sort of a mistake. If he was going to make it, it would be soon and Bill felt the need to be ready. “I’m going back to the station. Don’t wait up for me,” he warned, kissing her on the cheek.

Harriet watched her husband go, disappointed by the thought of spending yet another evening alone.

“Want to grab some coffee?” Althea asked. “I feel the need to decompress before I go home.”

With a grateful smile, Harriet agreed. With a police department full of bachelors, it was nice to finally have someone around that she could confide in. Althea was a woman who could certainly relate to being a cop’s wife.

XXXXXXXXXX

Holding back and letting everyone else have Marissa’s attention gave the detective a chance to study her before introducing himself. One word described her. She was pleasant. She was quick to laugh, but not too loudly. Talkative, but not one to overpower a conversation.

Lonnie hadn’t quite understood what Parker had meant by _classic beauty_ , until now. She really did share a resemblance to the women in classic art, just pretty enough to compliment the work, not overwhelm it.

Virgil broke away from the little welcoming circle that had formed around the newcomer. As he passed Lonnie on his way out, Virgil admitted, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Parker really didn’t exaggerate about this one.”

Lonnie offered a slight smirk. “I can tell.”

Travel weary, Virgil had little else to say and began to head for the door.

“Virgil,” the detective called after him, “in case Parker forgets to say it... thanks.”

Little needed to be said between the old friends, so Virgil only acknowledged the gratitude with a smile and a nod before excusing himself. “I’m eager to get home and tuck in my kids. I don’t get many chances to do that anymore.”

Lonnie watched him go, wondering if Virgil had realized his slip of the tongue. Home wasn’t really home anymore. Or was it? Was home wherever his family was?

Virgil had proven time and time again that he would follow Althea to the ends of the earth to be with his children. Wherever his children were, that was home.

With that thought on his mind and another creeping in at the edges, Lonnie darted out the door after his old friend, needing not only his advice as a mentor, but as a divorced father.

XXXXXXXXXX

A couple of rowdy men had burst into the cafe and quickly made themselves the center of attention and for that, Althea was somewhat grateful. Anymore, she couldn’t help but feel that most of the eyes in any room were on her. She wasn’t exactly sure when her relationship with Bubba had gone from being a mere rumor to a bona fide reality, but it apparently had.

Like most people who finally got what they wanted, most who had spread the rumor around with abandon were now left sitting back scratching their heads as to what to do now that it turned out to be true. To Althea’s relief, so far, no one had come up with any ideas and were leaving it alone.

“When our fears become reality, they never seem to live up to the hype,” Althea commented dryly.

Harriet nodded. “We do tend to get ourselves worked up over what eventually turns out to be nothing.”

“It’s what comes out of nowhere that’s really frightening.”

Noting Althea’s worried expression, Harriet could read her friend’s mind and soothed, “Bubba will be fine.”

“I keep telling myself that. I keep telling myself that he has to have someone watching over him, the way he manages to get himself out of trouble, but that’s when I really start to worry.”

“Worried that the cat’s out of lives?”

Althea put her coffee mug down and sighed in relief, “Exactly!”

Harriet reminded with a soft smile, “Do cats really have nine lives? No. Does luck really run out? No.”

“Do men really drive us insane?”

“Yes!”

Finally feeling the tension beginning to ebb, Althea grabbed her purse from where it was slung over the back of her chair and extracted her share of the bill and a generous tip. The waitress would probably never know how much a little extra service mattered on the kind of day she was having. The council meeting had gone well for them, but she had more important things to worry about now.

Laying the money on the table, she sighed, “I’d better be going. I still have to go by Bubba’s place. That poor dog is probably trying to eat his dish.”

“Taking care of his dog... now _that’s_ a committed relationship.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Sarah poked at the mashed potatoes on her plate and only thought halfheartedly about talking to her Great Aunt Etta. Etta was nice enough, but she was of an older generation, making her unapproachable, even a little frightening.

Sarah found herself wishing Bubba had joined them for dinner. At least he had a comforting way about him, always offering a genuine smile or a playful tug of her braids. Not the fake smile all her mom’s other boyfriends had. Having Bubba around was like having her father around. Not exactly the same, but like it... a little.

“I wish dad was here,” she mumbled softly, for her brother’s ears only.

“Your daddy called this afternoon. He may be home already,” Etta announced, eager to be the bearer of good news.

Sarah dropped her fork with a clatter against her plate. “Really!”

“Can we call him?” Billy asked excitedly, following his sister’s lead and hopping out of his chair.

“After you’ve cleaned those plates,” Etta stressed, motioning them both back to their chairs.

“I said he _may_ be home already. He wasn’t sure when they’d be able to get a flight back.”

“They?” both twins asked in eerie unison.

“He’s coming back with Parker,” she told them, sure they knew the story.

Althea and Virgil were both more open with the children than she thought appropriate, but what could she do about it?

“Well, least there’s some good news to be had ‘round here,” Bubba sighed, having gone unnoticed standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Are you hungry?” Etta inquired bluntly.

“No,” he sighed, “can’t say that I am.”

He mustered all the strength his short nap had given him to act, at least for now, like nothing was amiss for the children’s sake. “Your momma’s not back yet, huh?”

Both twins shook their heads, but Sarah seemed more determined to stress the fact.

Not wanting to think what their mother’s prolonged absence had to say about the council meeting, Bubba sat down at the kitchen table and asked the two, “How was school?”

Billy pulled a face and Sarah just shrugged blandly.

Bubba couldn’t help but smile. He had been that age once and had felt the same way about school, though he was pretty sure the duo did far better in school than he ever had. The two didn’t seem to have to try very hard to accomplish that feat either. They were just naturally bright, like their parents and very much unlike him.

Not wanting to think about how inadequate he seemed among the bunch, Bubba studied Sarah’s plate then studied the little girl’s scrunched brow. Though he didn’t feel too bright at the moment, even he knew that uneaten potatoes seldom had much to do with the potatoes. He sighed, sympathizing with the girl, “Well, no point ya sittin’ there abusin’ the poor potatoes if ya ain’t gonna’ eat ‘em... if that’s alright with your Aunt Etta?”

Any fight in Etta over the subject drained away, hearing Bubba ask for her approval. As long as someone considered the cook, she could show a little leniency. Noting that Billy’s plate had been clean for some time, she said, “Oh, I suppose you two can go do whatever it is you two do.”

The twins bounced out of their chairs and bounded out of the room.

Bubba quickly asked, “Any idea what’s got her so down?”

“They keep tellin’ me that she’s a sensitive child. If ya ask me, they’ve made her that way.”

Bubba glanced to the kitchen door. It still swung slightly after the twins hasty departure. A thought came to him and he pushed it aside. He wasn’t worth worrying about, so it couldn’t have anything to do with him.

While he was distracted, Etta slipped the back of her hand over his cheeks and eventually up to his forehead. Without a word, she went back to her dinner, leaving Bubba with the impression that, for now, he had passed the test.

He could go back to worrying about Sarah. “Wha’d’ya think they mean by sensitive? She seems like a well rounded young’un to me.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“That’s a hell of a theory, Lonnie,” Parker sighed with obvious doubt.

The chief had yet to respond to his detective’s sudden revelation. He remained behind his desk. His expression grim. If true, he couldn’t imagine things getting much more disturbing.

Marissa held her tongue, not thinking she had earned a place amongst them yet, but silently, she agreed with the detective. Spending years reading people, she knew that something had to have spurred the typically reserved officer into the agitated state he was currently in. A gut feeling this strong deserved consideration. She had learned that first hand.

Lonnie pleaded his case, “I’ve contacted the airport. Brockhaus’ flight plan has him leaving tonight.”

Bill Gillespie finally spoke up, “When I was a boy, my mother would fret when we had company."

He leaned forward against his desk. “I always thought it odd. My mother was never one to keep up appearances. Come to find out, she was just tired of the guests sneaking out with her good silver.”

The old man stood. “Like my dear departed mother, my hospitality has finally run out. Good riddance to the man. but before we say goodbye to him, let’s make sure he doesn’t abscond with anything that doesn’t belong to him.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Lonnie parked his beat up sedan in the alley behind Rukan’s house and waited for Luke to pull up behind him in his cruiser. Hearing the distinct sound of a garage door, the detective looked over to see Rukan’s neighbor closing his garage. Inside, parked snugly away, sat a classic Pontiac GTO.

As Lonnie was lost in his memories of the good old days, when his Corvette wasn’t in pieces all over his garage, Luke came up and asked, “Are you going to tell her?”

His train of thought broken, the lean detective nodded and started across the backyard. There was no mistaking that children lived there. By the weak light of a nearby security light, he skirted a swing set, a toppled bicycle and a pogo stick.

Approaching the back door to be more discreet, Lonnie wondered if Parker had been right. It was a far fetched theory, but like before, his gut kept telling him he was right. It was the only thing that made sense and until Brockhaus had left Sparta, Lonnie knew he wouldn’t sleep easy.

Worst of all, if his theory was sound, things didn’t bode well for Rukan. She would never stand by and let her ex-husband do what Lonnie feared he intended to do and Brockhaus was the sort of man that would only love her in his own sick way for as long as it was convenient for him.

Lonnie took the back steps two at a time. As he moved to knock on the door, he heard the very distinct crack of a rifle.

The detective hesitated just long enough to glance over his shoulder to make certain that Luke had also heard it. The sound was unmistakably made out of doors, but as someone screamed inside, Lonnie knew that’s where he needed to be.

XXXXXXXXXX

There was a funny little smirk on Virgil’s face as he came down the stairs, leading Bubba to question, “I take it ya got whateva’ it was worked out.”

“It’s all worked out,” Virgil assured with a hint of laughter in his voice.

He sat down in the same chair Iron Jaw always preferred and looked to Bubba, who seemed willing to fall asleep on the couch at any moment. Before Bubba could doze off, Virgil warned, “I think you’ve gotten yourself into more trouble than you realize.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I know exactly how much trouble I’m in.”

Althea had graced him with a kiss before heading off to the council meeting, but he could sense the tension. He just hoped she came back in a better mood than she had left in, but it was unlikely, seeing the news she brought back would probably be bleak.

“I don’t know, Bubba. You don’t look worried enough for a man who has three generations of women mad at him.”

Bubba finally pulled his hand away from his eyes, no longer blocking out the light that was so irritating to him at times. “Three? I thought I just had the one... and believe me, the one’s enough.”

Virgil had offered to stay until Althea returned, so that Etta could go home, but his aunt had refused, snorting, “Can’t trust a man to look after himself. Can’t trust another man to look after him either. None of you can take care of yourselves.”

After Virgil had warned him of Etta’s mood, Bubba had a sinking suspicion he knew what was coming next and he was right.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rukan had fallen back and was still sitting sprawled on the carpet looking stunned when Lonnie rushed through the kitchen doorway. He swept his gaze up and down the hallway and then around the living area before approaching her, mindful of not making himself a target to whoever was outside and there was definitely someone out there. Broken glass glittered beneath one of the front windows and a slight breeze coming through the shattered pane made the curtains billow. 

All six of the older children were lined up along the staircase banister in order of their age, like something out of an old Disney movie, but their expressions were not out of a family film. The oldest boy wore a hardened grimace as he glared down at his father’s lifeless body. He put his arm around the sister next to him as she began to cry.

Lonnie met the boy’s gaze and the eldest boy knew then what he needed to do. He began to shepherd his siblings away, up the stairs.

“Stay away from the windows,” Lonnie warned sternly, before returning his attention to Rukan.

“I don’t... know what happened,” she whispered.

“Are you hurt?”

Though she was bruised and bloodied around the face, none of it seemed serious.

She put her hand to her neck absent-mindedly. With her scarf knocked aside and around her shoulders, Lonnie could see the red rings around her throat. “He tried to kill me... no, no, I’m alright.”

Still worried about who might be outside and what their intentions were, Lonnie asked, “Was he alone?”

Ignoring the sound of Lonnie’s backup arriving, she shook her head and replied, “I think he was alone. He never... unless we were alone. He was a coward.”

Luke stayed low as he came up behind the detective. “No sign of anyone yet....”

He paused, interrupted by some chatter over his radio.

XXXXXXXXXX

Peering down at the little girl who barely came up to his belt buckle, Bubba wondered if he should laugh or beg for forgiveness. Catching Sarah as she was getting ready to brush her teeth before going to bed, the little girl waggled a puppy themed toothbrush at him and assured him his actions had been very irresponsible.

Althea had warned him that she intended to be forthright with her children about why he was there and what was going to happen. He hadn’t been particularly pleased with the idea, but what choice did he really have. The truth was the truth and considering his track record, maybe he should stick with the truth more often.

Her firm rebuke over, Sarah shoved her toothbrush into her mouth and closed her mouth sternly. She would not be argued with. She was resolute about the matter and Bubba found himself looking down at an amazing likeness of the girl’s mother. The slim frame, the pretty features, the steely look of determination in the eyes and the tilt of her hip.

Articulating her feelings in a way he still couldn’t manage to do, even at his age, Bubba knew the little girl would do well out in the real world. It was the people who knew what they felt and said so that went far. As he squatted down before her, trying to formulate something to say, it became apparent why he had never gotten very far himself. He just couldn’t express himself worth a damn.

Sarah straightened, taking the irritated tilt out of her hip. She extracted the toothbrush from her mouth. Sounding too wise for her age, she suggested, “Just say you’re sorry.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Lonnie peered down the center aisle of the Cessna and wondered what might have been for Brockhaus and his family under better circumstances. Brockhaus might have been mad, but he had somehow managed to cultivate his own little empire. If Brockhaus had only devoted that time and effort to his family and getting help, instead of into his various schemes, he could have been a happy man. It would have never come to all this.

If Brockhaus had been a better man, he could have been with his children. He wouldn’t have been pushed to his extreme plan to whisk them back to the Middle East, which Lonnie was now sure he had intended to do.

At least, the ones young enough to put up little resistance. Lonnie feared that the older children, if unwilling to conform, would have met a fate like their father had intended for their mother. It wasn’t about love. It was about possession and control.

Dee approached the small jet’s open door and peered up the steps. “The serial numbers match. Do you think it’ll be enough?”

Lonnie turned and peered out the cockpit windshield out into one of McEntire Gulf Coast Transport’s various hangers. He could see Randall’s office. Just because the serial numbers linked to their small swatch of PFD material matched the same PFD’s found on Brockhaus’ sparkling new Cessna, it wasn’t enough to convict anyone cold.

It was, however, enough to get them permission to dig deeper. They now knew what Brockhaus’ motivation had been. He dealt in drugs, guns and possibly even human cargo to pay for safe passage to, and safe harbor in, the East for him and his family.

Stretching his lanky frame after coming out of the cramped jet, Lonnie continued to think about it and in the end, gave Randall little credit. The councilman was probably doing it just for the money. If he had managed to get an ally inside the police department after leaving it in ruin, it would have just made his money making scheme that much easier.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was turning into a beautiful day and Bubba was grateful for the opportunity to get out and enjoy it, even if for only a brief moment. The chief was standing next to him, prepared to make sure it really was for only a brief moment. The old man didn’t have the heart to tell Bubba he couldn’t come along, after what they had all been through.

Clark Randall snorted indignantly as he descended the courthouse steps in handcuffs. Luke, trailing behind him, wore a satisfied smirk as he spotted his superiors waiting for them half way down the steps. Lonnie kept a safe distance to the outside of Randall, looking a bit distrustful of the big man, despite the shackles.

Bubba asked the young officer, “Well, Luke, he’s not exactly the one ya was afta’, but how does it feel?”

Luke beamed. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Randall jerked around to face the chief. “This is obviously just a vindictive gesture, Gillespie. Everyone’s going to see right through this....”

Lonnie broke in, “I doubt they’ll be able to see through the stacks of evidence that’s piling up around you, _C_ _ouncilman_.”

Everyone present, except Randall, who was still in denial, knew Lonnie wasn’t bluffing. One small piece of evidence had opened the door to a whole world of new information. Randall was going away for a very long time, especially when the department shared their information with a variety of other agencies.

Two of Randall’s colleagues passed him on the steps and gawked. By the time they had reached the doors to the courthouse, they had practically twisted their necks out of joint. Randall, never a stable man, had finally reached his breaking point. He pulled against the restraints, jerking Luke off of his feet.

Bill frowned as he watched a melee ensue. Bubba watched on, not realizing until now how much of a bull Randall actually was. Luke suddenly looked younger and greener than he had in a long while. He seemed to be fighting a mountain. Lonnie seemed even scrawnier than usual, being taken for a ride down the steps.

“If a picture of this ends up in tomorrow’s Herald, I’m firing both of you,” Bill barked good-naturedly, already seeing the tides turn against the councilman as he began to lose his footing and with it, his weight advantage.

But much like an angry bull, Randall found a reserve of strength deep down. With it, he threw Luke down, leaving Lonnie to fend for himself. With the tides suddenly turned, Bubba moved to intervene, but the chief blocked him.

Even as Bill wondered how best to jump into the row himself, there was suddenly a new addition to the fray. Tossing his old ball cap aside as if he feared its safety more than his own, the new sheriff took Luke’s place.

Randall’s shackles in hand, Clint twisted them to inflict a little pain, giving Luke time to get back into the struggle, which was quickly over. Randall found three men too much to struggle against.

Only when the situation seemed back under control did Clint scoop up his hat, comb his fingers through his thick hair and put the hat back on, all while wearing a big satisfied smile on his face. “That was fun.”

Randall, back on his feet, glowered at the cocky little sheriff, but Clint seemed unfazed. Bill Gillespie looked on, thinking Clint reminded him of a tenacious little terrier and Randall was the groundhog twice his size not happy to be pulled from his winter den and mauled.

Clint was jittery with nervous energy, just like a terrier looking for something else to fight. Bubba, on the other hand, looked like a depressed coonhound, not allowed to get in the back of the truck with all the others as a hunt got underway. Bill gave Bubba’s shoulder a reassuring pat. He’d get his chance again sometime, just not today.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bill Gillespie’s expression remained cold as Councilman Clark Randall began to spill his guts in the hopes that he could avoid the fate looming before him. His lawyer kept reeling him in, but certain he was always right to the end, Randall kept ignoring his legal counsel. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know about Chiaruttini. All those robberies. That was him. He assaulted Robert Reed.”

The old man’s expression held steady, but the sturdy looking blonde that sat next to him leaned forward and taunted, “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Randall looked the pretty blonde in the eye and read the doubt on her face. Even as his lawyer told him to be quiet, he explained, “He studied with some guy out in California. Thought disguises was a sure way to not get caught... to get close to people he needed to do in... that’s what he does, ya know. He’s the hired gun, not me. I wasn’t involved in any of this. Any of it!”

Dee openly rolled her eyes and sat back, unimpressed.

Randall explained further, “After Reed gouged a big chunk out of the pretty boy’s face, he gave it up. I’m telling you, it was him. He did it for fun... to _perfect his skills_.”

The blonde detective reasoned with mock seriousness, “If you’re such a saint, why didn’t you contact us if you knew he was committing all these crimes?”

Randall reasoned hotly, ignoring the barb she had just thrust at him, “You need me. You don’t have _anything_ on him without me.”

Bill finally leaned forward and growled, “Until we find him, we don’t need you. It’s doubtful that after we find him, we’ll need you.”

“You’re not even going to look for him,” Randall snorted.

Bill snorted back, “Considering everyone you associate with ends up dead, it may be a waste of our time and resources to try to find the man. You’re bad luck!”

Randall retreated from the old man’s suggestive comment, fearful that they had found out what had really happened to the other half of the partnership that owned McEntire Gulf Coast Transport. Randall’s partner had remained a very silent partner for a reason, not that one more murder count against him would make much difference.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Lonnie’s finally going to take some time off and with Bubba out for awhile, I’ll probably be working over a lot,” Parker warned.

Despite the inconvenience of all the extra hours, Parker was wearing a pleased smile. He had a suspicion that some time during those days away, Lonnie might decide to pay a certain woman a visit.

There was no matching smile on Marissa’s face. Mention of Bubba’s current condition always left her with a sour expression.

Parker stroked her cheek. He had given up trying to reason with her that she wasn’t responsible, so now he only gave her _the look_.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she sighed. “It _is_ my fault.”

“I’ve never heard him blame you once.”

It was her turn to use a look, one saying, _We both know why._ It wasn’t Bubba’s way. She barely knew him and even she was certain of that.

“Fine, we can go over and you can ask him yourself. He’d probably love to see you, despite his blaming you and all,” he teased.

“And face Althea, oh no,” Marissa cried, “if I was her, I’d want to knock me on my ass.”

“You obviously don’t know her very well either.” He began to reconsider, “Now, if you were tall and blonde....”

Marissa, not wanting to discuss things further, broke his train of thought, leaping at the opening he had left her. “Has anything come up in the investigation that might explain who was following Tracy?”

Parker pulled her down onto the couch with him, irritating two cats that thought they had found the perfect place to nap the day away. “It’s probably nothing.”

“It sounded like Bubba thought it was something and I know full well how good his instincts are.”

“I think you worry too much and I also think I’ve got pretty good instincts too.” He puffed up his chest. “I taught Bubba everything he knows.”

“About everyone in town maybe,” she teased.

He kissed her for being so ornery, then admitted, “Okay, there are some things that still don’t make a lot of sense.”

Marissa feared some of the strange goings on were because of her. She feared that they had come looking for her or for information as to her whereabouts. It was just a theory, but the knowledge she had accumulated over the years was valuable to more than just the bureau.

Anyone with access to what she knew could step into Blair’s shoes. Perhaps someone from outside Philadelphia. Someone who would have no qualms about killing members of every faction in Philly. Someone who had a darker way of terrorizing their foes, like digging up corpses.

“It just worries me, Parker. Whoever it is, they know me, but I don’t know them. It’s not someone from Philadelphia. I’m sure of that now.”

He kissed her softly. “I promised to keep you safe and I will.”

She worried quietly to herself, thinking of what had happened to the last good man that stepped up to protect her. She couldn’t live with herself if something similar happened to Parker, but she had come back with him, knowing the risks, not only to herself, but to him. He knew them too. Now all they could do was try to live happily ever after as best they could.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dee questioned Tracy’s sincerity before advising, “If you really want to do this, make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. It won’t mean a thing if you’re doing it to make _yourself_ feel better.”

The taller blonde crossed her arms and considered her friend’s advice. After asking Dee what had come of everything and finding out things were as grave as she had feared, Tracy wanted to make amends with her ex. “I just want to know he’s okay... but I guess he isn’t, is he.”

“No,” Dee sighed, growing frustrated, “no, he isn’t.”

She couldn’t take much more of Tracy running hot and then cold for her ex-husband. It was like watching a tennis match, only with foul language and rackets being thrown down and stomped on.

The pretty officer finally looked her old friend square in the eye. “I think you really do need closure, but now is not the time. You feel _forced_ to do it. Wait until you _want_ to do it.”

“What if I don’t get that chance?”

In an instant, Tracy had proven it was about her and not him. If she really cared, wild horses shouldn’t have kept her away from him. She shouldn’t be standing in a florist’s shop as her best friend’s wedding loomed fretting over some problem with the center pieces.

Tracy should have been groveling at Bubba’s feet for forgiveness or asking what she could do to help. Dee was certain that’s where she would be, not that she would ever let a relationship get to that point.

No, with Tracy, she was worried about losing her chance to clear _her_ conscious before it was too late.

Dee initialed a form the florist pushed across the counter at her, authorizing a change and the small increase it would bring to the overall bill, before turning to Tracy and suggesting, “Honey, sit down and ask yourself _honestly_ , what you’ve done to even _deserve_ the chance to have his forgiveness.”

“You’re siding with him.”

“Yes, I am... and I should have done it a long time ago. _He loved you._ ”

Tracy stared back stricken, before admitting numbly, “I know.”

XXXXXXXXXX

He eyed the freshly baked cookie with longing and sighed, “It’s when ya can’t have it that ya finally want it.”

Althea glanced over to Bubba as they sat swinging in the back porch swing. “Are you actually hungry?” she asked in shock.

He had eaten little since the chief had dropped him off. None of it voluntarily. She had coaxed and bribed and guilt-tripped him into eating what little he did.

Bubba eyed the chocolate chip cookie and admitted, “A little.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she sympathized. “I can’t eat it now, that would just be cruel.”

A moment later, after putting the tantalizing morsel back in the container with the rest, she came back out the backdoor with a blanket in hand. It felt like a warm night, but after the cold spell, it was deceptive.

It was actually still quite chilly. She had been on the verge of making Bubba go inside, but after teasing him with cookies, she felt like a heel and was willing to let him stay a little while longer.

With his surgery scheduled for the next day, he wasn’t supposed to eat anything. With his lack of interest in food so far, she had seen no harm in baking. It not only gave her an outlet for her nervous energy, but gave her something to stuff in her nervous stomach too. It was a win-win or so she had thought.

With the cookie debacle over, Bubba put his arm around her and drew her close. “Lonnie’s takin’ a lil’ time off.”

She replied, “Good! He works too hard.”

“You’ve noticed too, huh.”

“I’m very observant... that’s why I know you’ve got something on your mind... beyond the obvious.”

Finding that diving right in was usually best, he confessed, “Money was tight _before_ all of this happened.”

He shook his head sadly. “I know Lonnie’s chompin’ at the bit to help me out, but I don’t want that.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’ve been chomping at the bit to help you too, but like you said, I knew you wouldn’t want that.”

He kissed her forehead. “I could live with some sort of mutually beneficial agreement.”

“I’m listening.”

So far, it had been surprisingly easy to talk to her, but it was getting tough again as he came to the heart of the matter. It wasn’t about his pride anymore or his old fashioned ideals. It was the speed with which he was falling for her that scared him most. It made him fearful of the future. Falling this hard this fast had never ended well for him before.

Despite all his fears, there was no changing the fact that he loved her and that he needed her help. “You’re not real happy livin’ here... and I need somebody to share expenses with.”

“I don’t know, Coach,” she began, a hint of a laugh in her voice, “I’m an independent sort of a girl... sure, it makes financial sense, but I think I need a little more convincing."

Bubba caught the look she was giving him and wondered how he had ever survived being in relationships with women who couldn’t even begin to read him like she could. He admitted softly to her, “I could care less if they took the house, except that ya like it so much. I’m just tired of bein’ alone.”

She feigned that she was being swayed, but still needed that extra little something to nudge her over the edge into acceptance of his offer.

“I love you. Move in with me.”

She offered her hand playfully to shake on it. “You’ve got a deal.”

He took her hand and kissed it, relieved. He had never considered for a moment what he would do if she said no, until he had actually started to ask and then the very thought made him sick with dread. He would have been crushed if she had said no.

“So,” she asked, always practical, “when do I start packing?”

He flashed a sly smirk. “You wouldn’t want me to be out there all alone while I recuperate, would ya?”

“No, I wouldn’t. Good point.”

“See, I can come up with a good idea on occasion. Even a blind hog finds an acorn once in awhile.”

She turned to face him directly, eyes sparkling with mischief as she asked, “Am I an acorn?  Or should I say, was I a pleasant surprise?”

“As crazy as I am for you, do ya even have to ask."

He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  He forgot about everything else.  It was just him and her and the rhythmic creak of the chains holding up the swing.

So what if he was a blind hog.  He was the one with the acorn.  


XXXXXXXXXX

Watching the beautiful countryside roll by, he had to give Europeans credit. They knew how to travel with a lot more class than Americans on their boring stretches of bleak interstate. He looked down to see nature clinging right to the very edges of the train tracks.

He looked over at two college aged girls chattering away in Portuguese. He didn’t have to speak the language to know by the way they looked away and giggled that they were talking about him. Some of his status as an American had to still show or the two wouldn’t have been so quick to assume he didn’t speak their language.

He had come to Europe to lay low for awhile and blend in, but so far, he hadn’t been very successful. When he got off the train, he was still thinking of how he could do a better job, when he stumbled upon an all too familiar scene.

He reached out and grabbed the pickpocket’s wrist, bending it back painfully. He didn’t need to know the local language to communicate with the sleazy looking kid. He would either put what he had stolen back into the man’s pocket or hear his wrist give out a sickening snap.

The pickpocket’s victim moved on, none the wiser, as the thief looked up into his captor’s face with a pleading look. The thief saw no pity in the man’s eyes. Eyes set in a face that would have been perfect if not for three distinct scars running down his cheek.

Without giving up so much as a hint as to what he was about to do, Chiaruttini snapped the kid’s wrist. He then moved on as if nothing had happened, getting lost in the crowded train station.

It had been for the kid’s own good. He had looked deep into the kid’s eyes and saw only hate and fear, not regret. The boy would go on to do the same thing over and over and then eventually something worse, until someone gave him a reason to stop. Maybe the ex-soldier had given him a reason, maybe he hadn’t, but Chiaruttini had tried.

That night in Sparta, he had finally been forced to answer the ultimate question. As he had followed Lonnie Jamison, waiting for his chance, he had to choose which side he was really on.

As Alexander Brockhaus beat his wife, the answer was clear. Chiaruttini was a firm believer that war was war, business was business and self-preservation was self-preservation, but there was no room in even his calloused heart to hurt a woman in front of her children.

Chiaruttini wouldn’t beat himself up over the past, but he would do his best to do something better with his future, now that he had chosen his side. Maybe the little town, where he had received more kindness and courtesy than he had ever deserved, had changed him. Not much, but enough.

**The End**


End file.
